To Follow One's Heart
by Fruipit
Summary: After being forced to flee her own kingdom, Queen Anna of Arendelle finds herself in a strange new city with strange customs. She befriends their monarch, the High Queen Elsa, but soon finds herself at the center of another political uprising. Only this one is far more dangerous than either had ever suspected... [the elf!fic. oneshot, complete]
_Most of this was written in October of last year, and I've just been picking at it since. It is my longest completed fic to date, and also my longest one-shot. I didn't want to break it up at all. I truly hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I would love to hear your thoughts at the end. This is the most world-building I've ever done, and, hopefully, it is coherent and understandable :)_

 _Big thanks to_ _JYN044_ _, who kept asking me about this story, mpsantiago who is bae, and no-escape-from-the-storm-inside, who gave me the final push needed to finish. Name credited to moredibell because I am terrible at thinking up names. Thank you all._

 _Enjoy :)_

* * *

She's roused from her sleep by a gentle hand. The moonlight, filtering through the wide windows, is enough to illuminate the worried look on her handmaiden's face.

"Queen Elsa," the woman whispers, "Please come quick. Something's happened."

It tells her nothing, but the mere fact that someone had dared to enter her chambers when not bidden is enough. Rarely does the City of Elves encounter any problem. Rarely is there something that Elsa must oversee personally. She knows this must be important.

She stands from her bed, hair falling about her shoulders in gentle curls. Her handmaiden, a young elfling by the name of Mela, averts her eyes at her mistress' nudity. Any other creature would have been chilled – the night is not warm, and the ice that surrounds them leeches any last remnants of heat, leftover of the day. But, for the Ice Elves, they thrive.

The markings on Elsa's body, stripes of tiger and dawn, have faded over time; not enough to completely wipe them. Nothing will ever completely wipe them from her body, or her memory. It's not something she likes to think on too heavily, and so she doesn't.

Mela bows low, a wide piece of silk in her hands used for clothing. Elsa looks out into the forest – _her forest_ – as the material is wrapped around her. Mela stands too close for a second too long, but Elsa hasn't the heart to push her away. The handmaiden's hands shake as she seals the shift closed with a brooch, and she takes a chance at looking at Elsa.

The Queen is already looking at her, and Mela steps back quickly, averting her gaze as her cheeks erupt in a heavy blush. Elsa doesn't comment on it.

Instead, she turns to a mirror, taking a moment to appreciate herself. The shift cascades over her in gentle waves, and Elsa debates for a moment pinning her hair up. She can feel Mela quivering behind her, a mix of shame and impatience echoing through the ice. It brings a ghost of a smile to Elsa's lips.

The elflings care too much for the passing of time, she knows. They are young and don't know the meaning of it. Elsa has lived for three hundred and sixty-four years. Mela is only a child, by comparison, and it shows.

Elsa turns around too fast for the poor child to duck her head in time. The back of her neck burns, and Elsa frowns to herself for a moment. She cannot encourage such behaviour, but she doesn't have the time to deal with it. She turns her focus onto the issue at hand.

"What is this matter?"

* * *

She's led beneath the palace. The rooms here – dungeons, more aptly described – have not been used in hundreds of years. Not since the last Great War. But here they are, lit up like day for a threat that Elsa isn't even sure exists.

She's flanked on either side by members of her guard. It's a purely ceremonial position, but that doesn't mean they don't know how to use the blades tied to their belts. Two guards stand at the door of a cell, backs straight. While the corridor is lit, the inside of the cell is not, and Elsa has to peer through the gloom. Even her eyes find it difficult to make out the prone form, curled in the furthest corner.

She stands and turns to the elder guard. "What happened?" she asks. He gives a slight tilt of his head before he speaks.

"It crossed our borders at the moon's zenith. We sent word to inform your graciousness as soon as we realised what we were dealing with."

Elsa frowns. Almost half the night still remains; it did not take them long, it seems, to come to a conclusion. "And what, stars tell me, _what_ are we dealing with?"

The guard swallows thickly, hesitating a moment before he answers.

"A human."

* * *

While Elsa doesn't wish to inform her council, she knows she has to do so. It is impossible to keep anything from them, and she doesn't wish to try. She's yet to speak to the girl, but that can come later.

By the morning, she's sent a message to her cabinet to convene at their earliest convenience, while the child – a girl– was moved into the palace, under the watchful eyes of guards and maids. The staff are not populous; with the time given to them, many elves do not choose to spend it working. But some, like Mela, enjoy it. Others owe something, and pay it with their services. Everyone has a place in society, but it's not the be all and end all; much time is spent simply relaxing. There is little desire to expand the borders of their land.

Elsa's city holds a little over two thousand elves, and most are older than she is. There are only a dozen or so elflings – those under the age of eighty-eight – and two children: Falo and his sibling, and the blessed child, Mÿr. There is one elf, the Record Keeper, whose spirit defies even the longevity of the elves.

Pabbie is ancient. He lived long before the birth of the Queen, and Elsa knows he will survive long after. He holds the history, is the source of all living memory, of the elves. His own form is nothing like theirs, as testament to this; he is impossibly short, barely a foot tall in total, and he holds none of the grace so typical in elves. However, his wisdom is unparalleled in the mortal realms, and it's why Elsa seeks his advice before going to her council.

"The times are changing," says Pabbie, "But it is the changing in _you_ , dear thing, that has led to this event."

Elsa doesn't understand. Pabbie is not always clear; his words do not always help.

A memory stirs within Elsa, and the markings on her body glow for a second before she can fight them down. Pabbie gives her a sad look, his wizened features cracking.

"This girl is not an omen, but a blessing," he continues. "Open the realm to her, and she will help you. Do not fear change, for it only seeks to guide. Whether you follow it is up to you, but be warned. Change itself is fearless; you may not follow it, but sometimes it will not let you choose."

He turns away from her then, and Elsa is left with more questions than answers.

* * *

Armed with Pabbie's advice, she does not go to the meeting rooms. The council is waiting for her, but they will remain there until she arrives. Answers cannot wait. She is, after all, the Queen.

Instead, she turns down the vast hallways of her palace, seeking out the girl who might possibly be able to answer them.

The sun has fully risen; Elsa realises, to her own slight surprise, that she's still in the silk robe that Mela handed to her earlier that night. Elsa debates detouring to change, but decides against it. If Pabbie's words ring true (and his words always do), then there is nothing to be done but let the snow fall where it may.

Elsa doesn't bother knocking. It is, after all, her own palace. The door swings open silently to a cool, dark room. The curtains are still drawn, blocking the morning light from filtering in. Elsa can guess why; no one wishes to enter the room to open them. They don't know the protocol (and neither does Elsa, if she's honest). This is unprecedented.

But she is Queen; the land is hers to travel as she wishes, including the rooms of her own palace. So she strides in and opens the blinds. Her sensitive ears pick up the sound of a sharp inhale in the far corner, and she turns.

The girl has dragged the pillow and sheets from the bed and curled up in the corner. Elsa finds it strange, but that isn't what has her attention.

Striking teal eyes gaze out from beneath a wild mess of hair. Red hair, so foreign; Elsa's people have varying shades of gold and blonde, with a few delving into the darker colours as a sign of mixed heritage. The last elves to have any other pure colour were the sand tribes of south; they perished during the last Great War, but looking at this girl, Elsa could almost believe they were alive.

Her heart clenches, but she manages this time to fight it back.

"Who are you?" she asks, stumbling slightly over the Common. It has been a very long time since she last conversed with humans. The girl looks at her for a second before she gathers her wits.

"A-Anna!" she cries. There's a satchel on her lap, and she tugs it closer, hugging it tight. "I'm Princ- Queen. Queen Anna, reigning monarch of Arendelle and all its land, seas, and colonies."

Elsa cocks her head. Arendelle. The name is familiar, but she isn't sure why. No matter.

"I am High Queen Elsa," she says, by way of introduction. "This is my kingdom. Its name is unpronounceable in Common, and so I shall not bother the attempt. Know that you are the first human to cross its borders, and I am here to find out why."

The girl, Anna, shrinks back a little. She has no reason to be afraid, but Elsa can understand why she is.

Elves have, she is fully aware, dissolved into myth and legend. They do not venture from their land, and foreigners rarely enter. Their sister tribe, across the land and north, joins them on occasion – to mark the passing of time, and celebrate rebirth. One such instance is the Morning Ceremony; a festival of several days that give thanks to the stars.

By chance, the next celebration is in a few weeks; Elsa is both grateful and cursing the distraction the girl has brought.

Standing up, she holds out a hand. "You may call me 'Elsa'," she says. "You are free to wander our land, but you may not leave. A guard shall be assigned to you after you have met with our council."

She doesn't say that it is for her own benefit, not Anna's, that the council is informed. They won't ignore Pabbie's words, but suddenly having a human, free to move about their borders, may be a bit much without warning.

The council is incredibly unimpressed. Somehow, for some _reason_ , Pabbie has elected to leave his home and join, as has Priestess Tiril. Elsa hangs back, allowing the council to survey the girl. In the spotlight, she looks like a caged animal.

She's questioned by the council, their mastery of Common even less refined than Elsa's, though they do get through it. Slowly, lilting, Anna tells the story of how she came to arrive.

"I need refuge," she starts. "I can't... my home isn't my own. It was a coup and he'll _kill_ me. Please?"

"How did you come to be here?" Elsa's voice wavers, the exhaustion of the night and something else tightening her throat. Anna bites her lips and looks away.

"It just... felt like the right way to go..." she says softly. Her eyes harden for a second as the council is completely silent, and she continues with a, "That's all. I swear it."

The council look to Pabbie, who cocks his head. She's telling the truth. Elsa breaths a silent sigh of relief; no one wished to have the blood of a child on their hands. But then the council turns on her.

"What of your wards?" Elder Kasi wonders. He has been advising generations of leaders; he is not as old as Pabbie, not by a long shot, however he has watched the world turn many times over. The tone of his voice makes it clear that he is unhappy, but his expression betrays nothing. Elsa inclines her head.

"They are still in place and undamaged," she says.

A fist slams down on the table, and Anna squeaks. Councilman Cirava is one of the newer advisors. He's too young, Elsa thinks, but his late father died protecting her kin in the war; the least she can do is give him a chance. He's headstrong and rowdy, but he understands the new era better than anyone. His own self-imposed isolation in the human world for close to two decades has given him insight that others lack.

However, he's lost some of his heritage along the way, as evident by his impatience and anger.

"How did this girl stumble through, then, Your Majesty? Did she happen to come across a convenient human-sized hole that we never knew about?"

Elsa starts forward, a grimace on her face, when a low voice halts her.

Pabbie's begun speaking, and all in the room fall silent. "My dear boy," he says to Cirava, "You cannot guard against yourself."

The room waits for him to speak again, but he doesn't. Not to them. Instead he begins moving, making his slow way around the table towards the human girl. He's the only person Anna doesn't seem afraid of; when he grasps her hand, she holds it back, just as tight and just as warm. It earns a chuckle from the wizened man, which in turn earns a shocked look from all those assembled.

Elsa has known him her whole life, and never has he laughed in front of her.

"You may wander freely. You are Mysafir – honoured guest. Elsa shall prepare your room and escort. You are one with the elves."

And then he leaves, his slow footsteps echoing down the hall.

As soon as he's out of earshot, the council erupts. Elsa doesn't bother with them, shepherding the girl from the room whilst they're distracted. She catches the Priestess' eye, communicating. Tiril understands, and Elsa can look forward to her company later.

But for now, she needs to find an escort, and then ponder Pabbie's words.

Guarding against oneself? Elsa doesn't know what to make of that.

* * *

There is no point hiding the arrival of the girl from her people, and so she doesn't. She calls together an assembly, and that alone is enough to pique the interest of her land. Even the animals in the forest respond, listening in to gleam any information of the newcomer. After all, they saw her approach. They, like everyone, don't know who she is, but the animals have a greater understanding of her importance.

"My people," Elsa calls out. The entire city, it seems, has gathered in the great hall. She doesn't sit on her throne; instead she stands, addressing each and every one of her citizens. Confusion is rank within their words, and the hubbub becomes louder and louder as people speculate the reason for the unprecedented meeting.

"My people!" she cries again, and slowly, the room falls to silence. "I have called you here for a very particular reason.

"As you are aware, in a half-moon's time we shall be receiving guests from the east – our cousins, the Vetrstøv Clan. This is an auspicious time, made ever-more-so by a recent arrival. She is unexpected, but not unwanted, and Pabbie has seen to her. She is a guest of honour, and has been given free reign to wander our lands – accompanied, of course. I shall need someone to stand up and show her our hospitality, but first, we shall meet her. Anna?"

Elsa turns behind her, where hidden from sight behind her throne is the redheaded child.

And much like with her council earlier, the room erupts in angered cries.

Anna stands a little behind Elsa, hands wrapped around herself as though it will protect her from the onslaught. In the bright light of the chamber, she looks even smaller, swaddled in a winter cape, a hat that wasn't there when she entered the girl's chamber placed precariously on her head.

Elsa knows why her people are angry, and rightfully so.

But Anna doesn't know that. The history of the elves is not one commonly known; Elsa herself was only small when it was _their_ history. But many of her kin remember the death wrought, and Elsa herself has felt the sting.

However, Elsa is Queen, and has been for many decades. She must put aside her own feelings in order to serve her people. She looks away from them to Anna, who seems as though she's about to cry. Elsa's heart clenches – it seems to be doing that a lot lately – and she takes a step closer to the girl. She holds her hand up, commanding silence. The room stills, but there are still motions of dissent, and Elsa realises that even with a guard and her word, Anna would not be safe.

The elves are peace-loving creatures by nature, but they do not spend their years static; the personal weapons that every child receives at their thirtieth birthday are not purely decorative.

Every elf, old and young, remembers and knows of the destruction carried against them at the turn of the Great War. The destruction the humans brought. None are prepared to go through it again.

Some would see it as retribution, and others would see it as justice, killing the girl. Elsa knows it would only be revenge, and she doesn't wish for the girl to die, nor for the death she'd have to deal to the one who killed her. There is only one thing for her to do, and she turns from the crowd assembled to look at Anna.

"Kneel," she says, loud and clear. A murmur runs through the crowd, but Elsa ignores it. She can see Anna wavering, hesitating, and she offers a gentle smile as encouragement. It works, and Anna slides to her knees. She shuts her eyes as though expecting the worst, and the jeering gets louder. The elves know what is happening.

" _Sem hon standa fram þessi heilagr staðr, hon vera varði of inn fyrðr eða of inn dróttning. Anna av Arendelle, þu vera veita inn vígja av inn álfr._ "

Anna looks at Elsa, confusion mounting. Elsa just smiles at her for a second before she leans down and touches her lips to Anna's forehead.

More than one elf leaves the room, unable to stand the sight. Elsa watches them go. It doesn't matter.

The ceremony finishes soon after. Anna has reverted to complete muteness, too overwhelmed to say anything, when Elsa realises that no one offered to guard her. She's made a statement, and one that not many elves believe in. Strangely, it's more common for the younger ones to become riled up. Perhaps those who are older understand the toll that anger brings.

It has been a long time since she's performed such a spell, but Elsa stops that train of thought before it has time to fully manifest. Instead, she thinks on the spell itself, hoping Mela explains it to the girl well enough.

It's one-use only, for protection against bodily harm. It's a nifty spell – one that does to the attacker the damage they would have caused. Elsa doubts it will come into effect; the point was to show her people that Anna is under her personal protection.

She's shaken from her thoughts by a figure approaching her, holding a glass of wine in one hand. He bows and hands it to her, and Elsa takes the drink appreciatively.

Kristoff, one of her guard, is not the elf she expected. He's a few decades younger than her, though he looks older, with short, shaggy hair – different to the typical length worn by the elves. That is not the strangest thing about him.

Elsa remembers his birth. It was an event known by all, and not necessarily for any good reason.

His father was human.

Kristoff inherited the elves' longevity and strength, but his appearance swayed to that of the mortals. His father was killed, and his mother perished in childbirth. Kristoff doesn't pretend that there wasn't anything they could do. Elsa was too young to help, but she feels the weight of his mother's death, just as surely as he does.

It was her parent's decision not to save her, punishment for her sins.

Perhaps she should have expected him. Elsa waits for anger from him; disbelief – why did you save her and not my mother? – and sadness. She doesn't expect him to drop to anoth bow and address her.

"Your Majesty," he begins. "I come to offer my services as guard and escort of Anna of Arendelle."

Elsa cocks her head and quirks an eyebrow. She leans to the side in an expression of pure luxury before bidding him rise. She could ask him why, but she has a feeling she already knows. And, frankly, it doesn't matter. No one else has offered.

She stands up and moves towards Anna and Mela, beckoning him to follow. Mela turns her head to the floor in a bow, but Anna doesn't. She stares at Kristoff with barely-disguised surprise.

"Anna, this is Kristoff," Elsa says. "He shall be your escort while you remain in the city. You will be safe with him."

She gives Kristoff a nod, and he steps forward. "Miss Anna," he begins, "It's an honour to assist you. I look forward to showing you all our city has to offer." He smiles at her then, and Anna returns the gesture, albeit shyly. Elsa nods.

"Wonderful. Now, Mela, come. Given the interrupted night, I am going back to bed. Good day, Kristoff. Anna. I shall see you both tonight."

* * *

The City of Elves is a beautiful place. Truthfully, Anna thinks she must be dead (or perhaps in some concussion-induced dream) because when she ran away from home, she never once imagined to be taken in by such creatures. She'd hoped, at best, for a passing Samí tribe to help her. Nothing like this.

It's different to her fairytale books, though. The elves are relatively androgynous beings; Anna has noticed the petite swell beneath Elsa's dress, and the same again with Mela. Their faces are smooth, but angular. Kristoff looks different – he's thick and heavy-set. He looks more like the ice harvesters that roam around Arendelle, not an _elf_.

And not only that, but the strange markings that cover the people. It varies, looking like light tattoos on some, and like burns of ice on others. Some don't have any, while others have so many shades that its impossible to count. They're all blues and greens, and some elves seem to just ripple in the light.

It's the first thing she asks Kristoff. "What is it with the marks?"

He doesn't have any at all, and when he tells her the reason, she can't imagine why.

"It's Bond Markings," he says, as though that explains anything. When she gives him a bemused look, he continues. "Like... well, what do humans do when they love someone?"

Anna's face grows inexplicably dark, and she doesn't answer. Kristoff tries a different tactic.

"Okay, well, Bond Marking is a thing that happens. It's a sign of True Love. It happens to humans too, but you are too blind to see it."

Anna frowns at him, "Then why can I see it on people here?" Kristoff shrugs.

"Magic? Or luck. A Bond Mark appears when the souls of certain elves join. They both feel it when it happens. It's said to be amazing, and there really are no other ways to describe it. They appear differently on each person, but they might mean the same thing. So, a Mark can tell you who gave it, the limits and restrictions, and other things. You've probably seen the marks on Queen Elsa."

Anna nods. She remembers seeing the strange lines that crossed the monarch's body. Contrary to the colours on her kin, Elsa stood out; hers were not shades of blue and green, but what once had been vibrant reds and oranges.

"They aren't very bright," she says, and Kristoff hums in agreement.

"What do you think hers mean?" he asks. Anna looks at him, scoffing.

"How am I supposed to know? I'm not an elf!"

"No, but you can still see them. I figure you must have some ability to understand them – I'm not an elf either and I know." Anna gives him a look. "Well, part-elf. Anyway, it doesn't matter."

Anna's silent for a few moments before she speaks. "I think- I mean, it _feels_... like a warning. Or territorial. Like she's been claimed by someone else. But they're faded, like she... regrets that?"

Kristoff smiles, but it isn't happy. "Almost," he says, but he doesn't explain which part.

* * *

They're in the ice gardens when they're interrupted by a runner from the palace. Anna's still trying to wrap her head around Bond Marking. It all just seems so strange – especially when Kristoff continued.

Monogamy is common, he said, but it's not the only thing. Pre-marital sex (or whatever version of marriage the elves carry out), polyamory, and even just purely physical relationships; they're all abundant in this society. And apparently Bonding is separate from them anyway.

"Sometimes you don't even know when you're going to Bond with someone," he says. "It isn't something you can think about or decide. It's something that the heart _and_ soul decide together. You have no control over it – once your soul decides, you have to follow it. It hurts too much not to. Some people give their love, and receive it, freely. For others, like Her Majesty, it's a rarity. And for a few, it doesn't happen at all."

"Can someone mark you, but you not mark them?" she asks. Kristoff shakes his head.

"No. Bond Marking is like... the physical proof of two souls coming together. It is what you humans call Soul Mates."

He wonders, briefly, why Anna is so interested in Bond Marks, before brushing it off as simply the novelty of it.

Anna isn't shy about asking other questions anyway. Why ice? Who creates it? How do elves spend their time? What do they eat? Where are all the children? How many elves are there?

That's only a few.

Kristoff tries his best to answer all her queries, but he's somewhat glad of the reprieve when the messenger relieves him of duty. He must escort Anna to the palace, but after she meets with the Queen, that's him done for the day.

He can't say he doesn't enjoy her presence. The elves are too quiet, too reserved. She's a bubble of warmth in a city of ice. His usual interactions are restricted mostly to work, and to the animals that visit his home. It's nice talking to someone who talks back.

Anna's left in the front room of the castle to wait for the Queen. The girl who spoke to her earlier, Mela, offers her a drink and a seat, but Anna finds it too cold to be comfortable. She's a child of summer, not winter. But, perhaps it's because she never bothered to appreciate the beauty of the cold season.

She knows it's summer in Arendelle, but in this city, she doesn't feel it.

Twenty-four hours ago, she had run away from home and, lost in the forest, she had given up. It was better than dying at home, slowly and painfully as her will was sucked from her.

Her husband had probably already taken on a dozen concubines and emptied the royal coffers. Whatever search party he'd pulled together would not have been to bring her home. He didn't need her anymore, save to bear him sons...

She's broken from her reverie by Mela. She's standing a few feet away, and looking expectantly at Anna.

"Queen Elsa is ready to see you now," she says, as though it wasn't _Anna_ who was summoned in the first place.

Elsa is sitting behind a desk. She's changed from the dress and into something more akin to a suit, but not really. A floor-length skirt and light jacket. She stands up when she sees Anna, a slight smile on her face.

"Anna!" she says. She certainly seems much more cheerful than earlier, and Anna puts it down to an uninterrupted rest. "Please, have a seat. Mela?" She turns to the handmaiden, who gives a nod and scurries from the room.

"How are you finding my city?" she asks.

Anna isn't quite sure how to answer, so she settles for a smile and an, "It's interesting."

Elsa gives a laugh at that. "You don't have to lie, Anna, nor be so diplomatic. Tell me, what do you think?"

Anna gives a sheepish smile and scratches the back of her neck. "I don't honestly know," she says. "It's cold and strange but it's also really beautiful. Kristoff is lovely, and he's so patient. He was telling me things today. Elves sound... wonderful."

There's an air of longing in her voice, and Elsa is intrigued. Before she can speak, there's a knock on the door. Mela enters, with a warm drink that smells like tea. It's steaming, but when Anna wraps her hands around the mug, she almost drops it from the cold that leeches from the cup and into her hands. She doesn't really want to try it, but Elsa's encouraging smile convinces her to take a sip.

The drink, whatever it is, seems to enter her veins and fill them with fire. It feels as though she's burning from the inside out, but she can't fight it because it feels so _good_. Like everything is perfect and she's never going to be cold again.

Elsa just smirks as she takes a sip of her own. "You like it?" she asks, and Anna can't nod fast enough.

"It's _fantastic_! What is it?"

"It's gjalpë zjarr. A specialty. Even we elves become cold during the Sun's Sleep. This staves off the worst of it."

Anna takes another sip, and smiles at the feeling it brings. She could get used to it. It tastes so much better than the imported tea of Arendelle, and for a second, she smiles at a memory, long-forgotten of her first taste of the imported beverage.

But then the thought turns sour, and she places the cup back on its saucer, mouth in a grimace. Elsa notices, and the soft chink of her own cup sounds as she puts it down and leans forward.

"Anna?" she asks, "Everything okay?"

Anna gives a sigh, and nods. "Yeah, I just..." She looks at Elsa's face, and decides against revealing her problems. Elsa is a queen – she doesn't care beyond mild interest. Why would she? "It's nothing. Just thinking about Arendelle."

"Oh? Tell me about your home," Elsa invites. Anna looks at her, surprised for a second. Maybe she does care.

"Oh, well, what do you want to know?"

Elsa smiles and gives a short hum. "Anything. Tell me of your childhood."

That's something Anna can do. She begins hesitantly, as though the woman in front of her will tell her to stop at any moment, regretting ever asking; she doesn't, and with each passing minute of Elsa's encouraging, Anna grows even more comfortable.

She talks of her childhood, running around the castle with her best friend and sister. She tells of her formative years, and the adventures that took place beyond the stone walls, moving ever further away from the heart of the castle and into the town.

When her father, her mother, and her sister perished on a boat bound for celebration, Anna bedridden at home with the fever.

She speaks so long that she doesn't notice the time. Mela enters once to refill the drinks, and once more laden with sweet cakes that Anna doesn't find the name for.

Their third interruption, just as Anna telling Elsa about her nanny, Gerda, comes not from Mela, but a woman that Anna recognises but cannot place. Elsa stands as the woman is let in, and Anna follows clumsily.

The newcomer is tall, wearing flowing robes of running water. They swirl like the tides, washing over her, and Anna blushes when she realises she's staring.

"Anna, this is Priestess Tiril. Priestess, our guest of honour."

Tiril gives a smile and a bow. "Greetings, Anna of Arendelle."

"Tiril guides our ceremonies. In two weeks, she will lead the Morning Ceremony for the first time."

The priestess bows again. "It is an honour," she says. "I hope you will be here to join us. A human has not witnessed the Morning Ceremony in an age."

Anna isn't given an opportunity to reply as Elsa steps forward. "I'm sure she will. Now, I apologise, Anna, but I must speak to Tiril on several other matters. I can send for Kristoff, or you may wander the palace unaccompanied."

Anna gives an uneasy look. "I would love to," she begins, "but... the people in the hall..."

Elsa nods in understanding. "They will not harm you in the palace. But, didn't Mela explain the spell to you?"

"Yeah, she did, but... they scare me..." she finishes weakly, cursing herself, but Elsa doesn't seem to notice. She fixes Anna with a worried frown.

"Do not be afraid within these walls, Anna. No harm will come to you, I guarantee it."

With that assurance, Anna perks up a little. She leaves the room with a small smile on her face, adventure in her eyes.

* * *

"You have spoken to Pabbie? You're quite sure that's what he meant?"

Tiril nods. "He repeated it verbatim. 'You cannot guard against yourself'. He either cannot or will not elaborate, and thus far, the only conclusion I can come to is that her heritage was once elvish."

Elsa gives a snort. "If we go by that, then what use are the wards in the first place? Once upon an era, everyone and their cousin had wedded an elf. No," she decides. "It's something else."

With a sigh, Tiril opens her hands, palms up in defeat. "I cannot decipher his meaning. If it was dangerous, he would warn us. Perhaps it's for the best if we just let it play out."

"Fine," Elsa says, frowning. She makes a shooing motion – one that Tiril does not take offence to – before raising a hand to rub at her temple. Almost like an afterthought, she brings it away and looks at the markings, wrapped around the slender fingers and up her wrist. "I wish to retire," she says. "Have you brought my ointment?" Tiril nods and, reaching into her robe, produces a small jar. She hands it to Elsa, who does not take it; neither does she wave Tiril away.

Instead, Elsa beckons her to follow. Mela is waiting for the Queen, but Elsa simply tells her to take the night off; the Priestess will help with anything that needs doing. She catches a ghost of a frown on the handmaiden's face before she brushes the thought to the side. Mela's feelings are not pertinent to how Elsa behaves.

She doesn't pass anyone else on the way to her chambers, Tiril following close behind. The two are silent as Elsa slips inside her room, and then slips from her clothes, leaving them in a bunch on the floor.

"Leave it," she calls out to Tiril, who had bent down to pick them up. Elsa lies on her bed, back bared in the candles that had been lit earlier.

It is even later than she first thought; conversing with Anna had taken hours from her day, and yet it felt like no time at all.

"I expected you earlier," she says, unable to see the priestess from where she lays. It doesn't matter when she feels Tiril sit on the bed next to her, a hand running up and down her back. It vanishes for a second, only to return a second later, covered in ointment.

"I came after the meeting, but Mela said you were resting," came the reply. "And when I came back after that, you were entertaining young Anna. I didn't want to interrupt. She's an interesting child."

"Hmm, yes..." Elsa hums. The hand, once it has rubbed in the oily substance, moves down over the backs of her thighs. Elsa can feel her body responding to the proximity, and she knows Tiril can too. The loud sigh from above only verifies this.

When Tiril speaks, it sounds more like a parent scolding a child. "I told you to visit the pond," she says. "It will help." She nudges Elsa's shoulder, and the Queen rolls obediently onto her back. The Priestess' hands land on her stomach, where they repeat themselves.

Elsa scoffs, looking at Tiril with a hard light in her eyes. "I don't _want_ to resort to that," she says. "The pond-"

"Is the perfect place to deal with this. There are many elves who would be honoured to help." One hand snakes up over Elsa's breast, pressing harder than necessary. The ointment makes the motion smooth, and Elsa gives a low whimper as her body warms. "How long has it been, Your Majesty?" Tiril continues. "This isn't healthy. You repress both conscious and unconscious desire, blocking any hope of happiness. The body, so built for pleasure, is not designed to refuse it for so long."

The hand that is at Elsa's breast moves down, slipping between the Queen's thighs and resting there. Elsa's eyes are squeezed shut, and her chest heaves in ragged want.

But then suddenly she flings herself to the other side of her bed. She doesn't look at Tiril as she rasps out a, "Go!" and Tiril lets out a sad exhale.

"No matter what I do, Elsa," she says, foregoing the honorific, "no matter the spell or salve used, your Marks won't stay forever. The past is meant to stay there for a reason. Please heed my words."

With that, she leaves the chamber. A cool chill has settled in the air with Tiril's departure; only after Elsa's gone around, blowing out the candles, and only after she's curled up in her bed, _feeling_ colder than she could remember being in a long time, does she allow herself to cry.

* * *

It's late afternoon by the time she wakes up. Her face is sticky, and Elsa just lies there for several moments, mulling. She will have to go and apologise to Tiril – the priestess was only doing her duty; was only doing as Elsa had _asked_ – but that can wait for now. It isn't the first time she's yelled at the woman.

Elsa can still feel her hands, and she can feel her body wanting them. Tiril is not wrong, and her suggestion to visit the pond is not unfounded. Elsa just can't bring herself to go.

She stands up, about to call Mela to run her a bath, when the door to her chambers swings open. There was no knock, and Elsa's immediately on alert. Her eyes flicker to a dagger, proudly on display above her bed, but she hasn't the time to go for it.

When Pabbie waddles through the door, followed closely by Anna, Elsa realises how stupid the idea of an assassin in the castle is, and relaxes.

"Pabbie," she says, a disapproving note in her voice, "What are you doing here?"

He doesn't say anything at first. He seems to be looking for something, and he walks the circumference of the room before turning to Elsa. She's taken the time to pour a glass of water, though she hasn't quite gotten to the stage of offering Anna one. It wouldn't matter. Anna is very adamantly staring at the floor, and with Pabbie's next words, Elsa isn't surprised.

"Where is Tiril?" he asks, and she chokes.

"What?"

Pabbie nods and repeats the question. "Where is she?"

Elsa splutters for a moment, eyes flicking between Pabbie and Anna (who looks just as confused as Elsa feels).

"The only reason for you to sleep in so long, Elsa," Pabbie continues, "is if you have a beautiful woman in your bed. Otherwise you're being a terrible host."

All Elsa can see of Anna's face is her ears by now, and they're even redder than her hair. Elsa hears a muttered, "Good Heavens," from her general direction, but she can't focus on that right now.

"Tiril," Elsa hisses, "is not here. And I thank you to keep your nose out of my business."

Pabbie shrugs. "The happiness of the queen is my business," he says. "Because the happiness of the queen is the happiness of the realm."

Elsa sighs and lifts a hand over her eyes. "I apologise, Anna," she says. "Pabbie should know better than to speak of such matters in front of guests."

At that, Pabbie breaks out in a beam, and moves back towards Anna. He takes her hand and leads her to Elsa, grabbing the Queen's hand and putting them together.

"Elsa will show you around today, Anna," he says. He ignores Elsa's protests. "The Ceremony is not for another half-moon," he says. "It hasn't changed in a millennia. There is little left to plan; you can take an afternoon to show our guest around."

"Can't Kristoff do it?" Elsa asks. Pabbie frowns at her.

"You are being rude, Elsa. And I was thinking you could take her to the Heart of the City. Kristoff does not have permission to go there."

With a sigh, Elsa acquiesces. Pabbie smiles, and with a nod, leaves them.

Elsa breaks the grip as soon as he's gone. She gives Anna a low bow, speaking. "I apologise for my rudeness," she says.

"Oh, er, it's fine," Anna says, but when Elsa looks at her, she's staring out the window. Her eyes flick to Elsa before she averts them, and at once, Elsa knows she's done something wrong.

She bites her lip. She knows she was rude, but Elsa didn't mean to cause offence. "I- is something the matter, Anna?" she asks softly, reluctant to hear the reply.

Anna shakes her head violently, "No, no, nothing's wrong." Finally, she looks at Elsa. Her face is still incredibly red, and her eyes waver once before she's practically sprinting for the door.

"I'll, erm, I'll just wait out here for you to get dressed," she calls behind her.

Elsa's groan is buried beneath the sound of the slamming door, and Anna's subsequent, "Sorry!"

* * *

"I apologise once again for my state earlier," Elsa says. It's not the first time she's apologised, nor the second, but each time seems to make Anna feel a little less uncomfortable.

Elsa understands that the humans feel shame in their bodies; that gazing upon what lies beneath their clothes is something forbidden save but in the most intimate of settings. It seems strange to Elsa, but who is she to judge others' way of life?

It's been a half-cross since they left the palace, and other than the apologies, neither have spoken. Anna's face is still quite red, but it's slowly returning to its normal hue. Elsa wonders what Anna's thinking, but is loathe to break the silence with petty conversation.

Fortunately for her, Anna breaks it first.

"So... what's the Heart of the City?" she asks. Elsa hums for a second in acknowledgment of the question, but she doesn't answer. It's not an easy question _to_ answer.

"It is... something best appreciated when you don't know what to expect," she says. "Where did you go with Kristoff yesterday?"

"He took me to the garden," Anna says. "It was very beautiful. He showed me the pillars and the ice-flowers. I'm afraid I wasn't really listening to him when he explained them, though."

Elsa laughs at that, a light tinkling sound. "No matter. We have plenty of time to return."

The weak afternoon sunlight provides little in the way of light or warmth, and Elsa notices Anna shivering. Taking her hand, they veer from the path and up a set of elaborately-carved steps. "This is our bathhouse – or, one of them," Elsa explains as they walk through the entrance. It isn't blocked by a door; in fact, glancing around, Anna can't see any doors at all.

Her eyes widen and she blushes profusely as elves, tall and pale and completely naked, come into view. "O-oh? You don't have... private baths?"

Elsa shakes her head, and returns gestures of greeting to the elves who notice her. A few send Anna dirty looks, and even fewer smiles, but the rest are content to just ignore her presence. "Not generally. We elves are rather clean creatures; the baths are used more for relaxing than anything else. There is no need for personal baths. You are free to use this facility, if you choose, however there is a smaller one at the palace, for the use of guests like yourself. It can be private, if you prefer?"

Anna gives a relieved sigh and a grateful smile. Honestly, she'd thought Elsa had led her here to tease her – her reaction earlier is one she might laugh at later, but for now it still burns in her mind.

Elsa returns the smile before turning around and walking through an open arch.

"How come it doesn't melt?" Anna asks suddenly. Elsa cocks an eyebrow, and Anna elaborates. "The ice. It's everywhere, but... I'm not freezing. That is, it's quite warm in here but the buildings don't melt..."

Elsa laughs again, tilting her body to look at Anna. "Magic," she says, and Anna blushes, this time from embarrassment. Of course.

When she faces forward again, she suddenly trips. It's only a little stumble, but as far as Anna's seen, elves _don't trip_. She's a little worried for a second as Elsa stands up, but the Queen doesn't seem worried. Instead, she calls out to someone Anna can't see.

"Falo? Mÿr? Come here and meet our guest."

Two little elves – they only look about seven or eight in human years – approach from one corner. They're as naked as everyone else, and aren't shy of that fact. Elsa sinks to the floor, and they take a seat on either side of her lap.

"This is Falo and Mÿr," she says, indicating the children in turn. "They're the only children we have at the moment."

Falo has a brown sprout of hair, though Mÿr's is almost the same shade as Elsa's. Anna wonders for a second if Elsa is their mother before casting the thought aside; they'd live in the palace if that were the case.

She looks at Anna. "The celebration went on for almost an entire moon-cycle," she laughs. "Twins, and a Blessed Child. It was very auspicious." She places a kiss on their foreheads and whispers something to them in Elvish.

Falo grins wildly at her, and places a clumsy kiss on her cheek before jumping up and wrapping his arms around Anna's waist.

While Falo doesn't seem scared or nervous of Anna, Mÿr seems not to want to approach her. Both Anna and Elsa notice, but Anna's too shy to say anything. Elsa leans forward, her hands wrapped around the young elf in a half hug, and she's whispering in Elvish again.

Anna gives a small cough, and Elsa looks up. "Why is Falo's hair brown?" she asks. Elsa's eyes grow dark and vacant, and she looks away.

"It's an elvish thing," she says when she finally answers. It's not helpful at all, but Anna gets the impression not to push, so she leaves it.

Finally, Falo unwraps his hands from Anna and moves over to his twin. He whispers something in Mÿr's ear, and the two of them giggle until a reproachful look from Elsa shuts them up.

"Home time," she says, gently pushing Mÿr from her lap. "No more playing around in the baths. It's slippery in here."

The children nod solemnly before their faces brighten and they push through Anna's legs and into the bathhouse. There's a shout in Elvish, and Anna can recognise their name being called but she isn't sure what's happening. Elsa's laughing into her hand, though, so once again, it's nothing to be worried about.

"They're cute," she comments off-hand. "How old are they?"

Elsa's still smiling when she answers, "Elves don't age as humans do," she prefaces. "They are as old as they look. Falo is slightly older, but age... doesn't generally matter here," she says. Anna nods as Elsa climbs up from the floor.

"I don't think she likes me," Anna says suddenly, as they're leaving the building. Elsa frowns.

"Who?"

"Mÿr. I don't think she likes me."

Elsa's eyes widen in apparent understanding, but she stops on the steps and gnaws on her bottom lip. "Mÿr is not a girl," she says. Anna frowns – she certainly looked like a girl – but she hasn't the chance to comment when Elsa continues.

"Mÿr is our Blessed Child. Neither female nor male, nor bound by any gender at all."

Anna visibly struggles to understand, and she finally ekes out a, "But... she- he- it has... girly bits."

Elsa sighs and closes her eyes, and Anna gets the impression that she's succeeded in seriously offending Elsa and her kin. "Not that there's a problem!" she says quickly, trying to salvage whatever good feelings Elsa still has towards her. "I just don't... understand..."

Elsa nods and says, "I'll explain over dinner. We shall see the Heart of the City another day."

* * *

They're silent all the way back to the palace. Anna is incredibly aware of how much she seems to have offended Elsa, and her heart sinks at the thought of being on the bad side of the elf. She could very well see herself becoming friends with Elsa.

The thought gives her pause, and she stumbles slightly in her step. Elsa shoots her a look, and all Anna can do is respond with a slightly forced smile.

She's a princess – or rather, she was. Queen, actually, back in Arendelle. It's not so strange for her to imagine a friendship with another monarch... Only the monarch wasn't supposed to be a flipping mythical creature.

Anna surreptitiously pinches herself, but it doesn't change anything. She wonders for a second if she has actually gone mad, before she shrugs it off.

There are worse ways to go than this hallucination.

Elsa shows her where the private washroom is, telling her that dinner's at sundown (but it will be waiting for Anna when she gets out). It feels like a dismissal, but Anna accepts it.

The bath – pool, really – is already filled when Anna gets in. It's about the most glorious thing she's ever felt, and she lets out a sigh. Screw going to dinner; she just wants to stay in the bath. The room is made of ice, but it's still so _warm_.

She's sitting on a submerged ledge, leaning on the icy wall with her eyes closed, when she hears a noise that isn't the water sounding in the chamber. She opens her eyes and squeaks, and there's a flurry of water as she struggles to cover herself.

Mela is standing at the door. Her eyes are averted, but it doesn't help much. Anna can feel redness seeping into her cheeks, and she's adamant about not moving.

"Um... hi," she says, wincing when it bounces through the room far louder than she'd intended. Mela gives a low bow and holds out her hands. Anna's finally able to deal with her embarrassment for long enough to realise that she's holding light green material.

"A gift from Her Majesty," says Mela. Her eyes flick up to survey Anna, and the redhead swore she could feel a mean smirk, hidden from her sight. "Queen Elsa has also asked that I retrieve your travelling clothes and wash them. The bathhouse has been complaining of your stench for hours."

Anna's ears burn in humiliation, and she doesn't say anything as Mela puts the fresh clothes in a pile and picks up Anna's travelling dress and underclothes. Mela doesn't attempt to hide her disdain, nor avert her gaze, and Anna feels incredibly insignificant.

She's _dirty_ , she can feel it. Her skin, pockmarked slightly from her teenage years, and completely covered in freckles, is nothing next to the utter _beauty_ of the elves. From their perfect hair to the complete _lack_ of hair on their bodies... she's not really surprised that they're immortal, too.

Mela takes far too long, in her opinion, to leave. Anna's not one to let a few words affect her, but with how royally she screwed up earlier, she's a little surprised that Elsa's even thinking of letting her stay.

She doesn't know why they're putting up with her. What was the point when everyone seems to hate her?

Anna almost wants to ask Mela, but when she glances up, any courage she had is gone. She sits in silence until the handmaiden leaves. She doesn't know what to say, anyway. Her sister used to call her feisty. Called her stubborn and strong and Anna doesn't feel any of those right now.

The door swings shut, the sound reverberating through the room.

Now, Anna _really_ doesn't want to get out of the bath.

* * *

The dining room is almost completely empty. Elsa, contrary to usual, has forsaken her place at the head of the table. Sometimes, she eats with various council members or Tiril, though, most often she's on her own. But, as Pabbie said, Anna is Mysafir. And, truthfully, Elsa enjoys the lack of pretence and protocol. Anna expects nothing of her, just as she expects nothing of Anna.

It has been a very long time since Elsa had enjoyed another's company to such a degree, and she finds it far more refreshing than she'd imagined.

Of course, enjoying another's company is entirely dependent on them being present.

Elsa hasn't started eating, but she can see the vegetables wilting on her plate. She did tell Anna to take her time, but sundown was a long time ago. The night isn't late, but it's not young by any stretch of the word.

"Mela," she calls. The elfling darts forward, hands pressed in front of her. "Could you go and see where Anna is?"

Mela makes a strange noise between a cough and a laugh, and says, "Probably still in the bath, cleaning herself up." There's something in her expression, and a dismissive slant of her body.

"What did you do?" Elsa clenches her fingers where they sit on her lap, and she frowns at the young elf. She doesn't wait for a reply as she stands and sweeps out of the room, Mela following.

"I didn't do anything," she replies, close on Elsa's heels. "Was just talking. Letting her know that we'd clean her clothes for her."

Elsa's expression doesn't change at all, but she waves her hand, shooing Mela. The girl makes another noise, but she does as she's bidden. When Elsa arrives outside the bathroom door, she's alone.

"Anna?" She knocks on the door, but doesn't get a reply. The ice for the walls is thick and unyielding; light and sound travel, but little else.

She doesn't get a reply, so tries again, knocking a little louder. "Anna?"

The girl doesn't answer, and with a worried grimace, Elsa opens up the door.

The fragrance in the room is absolutely overpowering, and Elsa can't help the way her nose turns up. There are salts and flowers, intended to purify the water and leave a pleasant aroma on the skin of the bather, but they are only supposed to be used in small doses, and certainly not all at once.

But Anna seems to have dumped all of it in the pool. Her back is to the door, and she's scrubbing so hard at that Elsa half expects the speckles of sun that coat her skin to fall off. It's bright red, and Elsa wonders how long she's been at it.

She hasn't noticed the Queen enter, too intent on her task. It's only when Elsa says her name again, soft and cautious, that she turns around.

Anna's eyes are red, and she's blinking rapidly. She darts closer to the edge, away from Elsa, and her arms come to wrap around her chest.

"Anna-?"

"Why do they hate me?" she asks. Her voice is quiet, and she's not looking at Elsa. "I didn't do anything..."

Elsa's heart breaks at the sight of the forlorn girl. She looks so lost, and there are probably hundreds of other questions still rolling around in her head that she's too scared to ask.

So Elsa just sighs and moves towards Anna. There's a towel waiting for the girl to the side, so she picks it up on her way past. Anna doesn't get out of the bath until Elsa averts her eyes, and it almost brings a smile to her face.

"Let's have dinner."

* * *

They don't go to the dining room. Elsa invites Anna to her own chambers, and they spend the evening tasting various delicacies on Elsa's massive bed.

Elves don't eat meat, as Anna discovers. It's a strange diet, she thinks, because much of her own meals growing up consisted of salted fish and mutton, with few vegetables. Much of what she samples is completely new and foreign, and she absolutely loves it.

She forgets, briefly, why she was upset earlier, and it makes the night more enjoyable. She only remembers when she notices Elsa scrunching her nose up, or burying it in the same drink Anna had tasted earlier.

Eyes downcast, she gives a self-deprecating chuckle. "I smell that bad, huh?" she asks. She can't bring herself to look up at Elsa, so she just keeps talking instead. "Yeah, uh, Mela mentioned it, and I guess even all your pretty-smelling things couldn't quite cover it..."

The food – currently some kind of fruit bread – tastes like parchment in her mouth, and it takes so much effort to swallow that she doesn't bother taking another bite. Elsa shifts on the bed beside her and lets out a huff.

"You know," she begins, "She thinks she's in love with me."

The strange topic shift is enough for Anna's head to whip up, and Elsa gives a sad sort of smile.

"Mela. She thinks she's in love with me, and she does these things because she thinks I don't notice. Don't notice her, or her feelings. I wouldn't take to heart what she says. I don't think you smell, and I'm Queen, so I'm right."

It brings a slight quirk to Anna's lips, but it's too easy for her to remember the outcry that day when Elsa kissed her forehead. It's too easy to remember the upset gaze of the elves in the bathhouse.

"Why do they hate me?" she asks again.

"Because you're human," Elsa answers. Anna's not expecting such a reply, both swift and candid, and it shows in her expression. The Queen looks down and plucks at her dress.

It's a sheer shift of off-white, almost see-through but not quite. Anna's just grateful that she's clothed.

"There was a war," she begins. "A giant- we call it the Great War. Not for how long it took, nor the scale of it in history. Simply, it refers to how many of our number were taken. It wasn't between the humans, not at first. You didn't even realise what was going on. We're usually peaceful, but this...

"The enemies name has been wiped from our history. A powerful spell – even I don't remember it. They killed a child. A Blessed Child. And so we marched. Called the clans and tribes together. I was only very young – still an elfling – so I couldn't go. My father, my mother... my sister." She catches Anna's eye and gives a small smile. "Oh yes, I had a sister too. I loved her... so much. It doesn't stop hurting, does it?" Anna shakes her head. Elsa continues her story.

"Well, we marched. And when they got there, there was no enemy. No one to fight. But they had been there; the remains of the enemy was on display for everyone to see.

"The humans had discovered them and, taken by surprise, slaughtered them. My people didn't stand a chance. Once upon a time, elves and humans lived peacefully – some lived _together_. Our cities were filled with those of both human and elf blood. We never expected the alliance to break. We underestimated the peace of humans, and we overestimated the length of their memories."

She tears her eyes away from where they've fallen in her lap, and finds she can't see much for the tears in her eyes. It doesn't matter; she blinks them away only to realise Anna's crying too, thick trails running over her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she says thickly, rubbing her eyes with the ball of her hand. "I don't... no wonder they hate me..." she whispers.

"No..." Elsa says. "It wasn't you." She reaches forward and brushes the water from Anna's face with her thumbs. "Your tears just show that you aren't like them. You're a good person, Anna, and they will see that."

Anna lets out a sniffle. "But I'm not. I was rude today, too..."

At that, Elsa gives a watery laugh, still plagued by the tears in her own eyes. "You didn't know," she repeats. "We aren't humans, and sometimes even we forget how different we are..."

With a little laugh, Anna nods. "Mhmm," she hums. "So... Blessed Children...?" she prompts.

"Ah, yes. Mÿr. Mÿr was born with the genitalia of a female, however is not a girl. We don't use any pronouns at all when referring to Mÿr. Name or title only. Does that make sense?"

Anna gives a little half-shrug, and Elsa returns with a mock-glare.

"I don't understand the... not being a girl thing..." she admits, and Elsa nods her head.

"It is a hard thing to grasp," she says. "I have the body of a woman and I feel as such. On occasion, children are born with one body, but they don't... identify as such. These are also Blessed Children.

"It isn't always evident immediately; some Blessed Children take many years to realise what they are. Mÿr knew before turning three. Blessed Children are a gift from the stars. They are unbound to the earth, and have the dual spirit. They are... blessed. It is hard to explain in Common..."

Anna nods. "I didn't mean offence, earlier," she says. "I wish humans were that accepting of anything different." Elsa shrugs.

"Then you wouldn't be human," she says, earning a little chuckle from Anna. The laugh morphs into a yawn, and once again Elsa is surprised at how much time she has lost. It would be close to the night's zenith, if not already past, and yet it doesn't feel as though they've spent that much time talking.

"Time for bed," she says. Anna tries to say something, but she's interrupted by another yawn. She gives a sheepish grin, and clambers from the bed.

"Goodnight, Elsa," she says as she nears the door. "Thank you. For explaining."

Elsa smiles. "Thank you for listening. It has been a long time since I could speak so candidly. It's nice."

Anna nods and, with a wave, she's gone from the room. Elsa lifts the food tray from the bed, and she realises that she probably should have walked Anna to her room. But, she knows Anna will be okay, and truthfully, she's too tired.

For the first time in a long time, she sleeps peacefully.

* * *

She manages to get up at a reasonable hour. Elsa's halfway dressed before Mela even knocks on her door, asking if she needs assistance. She lets the girl in, but doesn't allow her to actually _do_ anything; Mela is made to stand by the door while Elsa dresses herself and applies a light coating of powder to her face. She adds a purple highlight to her eyes, and wonders, for a second, why she barely ever bothers with it in the first place.

"I heard about what you said to Anna last night," she says finally, sitting on the edge of a settee and giving Mela a reproving gaze. The girl blanches and looks away. "I don't care for your motives," Elsa continues, "She is a guest; you would not humiliate any of the Vetrstøv Clan, so I don't see why you would do so to her. I will not tolerate it if it happens again. Understood?"

Mela gives a sharp nod, embarrassed by the telling-off. Elsa responds with her own shake of the head, and stands up.

"We'll take breakfast in the solarium today," she says. "See to it."

And with that, Mela is dismissed.

Elsa makes her way down the hall towards Anna's room. She knocks on the door, but doesn't get a response. She's just about to try again when she hears a cough from behind her. Whipping around, she sees Anna, still in her nightclothes, standing awkwardly in the corridor.

"Hi."

"... What are you doing out here?" Elsa asks, confused. Anna gives a sheepish smile.

"I got lost," she says. "I was looking for the bathroom. You know how confusing ice gets?" She makes a face, and Elsa hides a giggle behind her hand. "Hey, it's not funny! And then when I finally found it, I almost got stuck to the seat. Sorry, Els, but I think you need to rethink your building strategies."

Elsa's halfway to laughing again when she stops short and gives Anna a look. "What did you just call me?"

Anna's smile falls, and she looks confused for a second until recognition dawns. "I uh... sorry." She bites her lip and looks away. "I got a bit ahead of myself, I guess..."

Arms outstretched, Elsa rushes to convince her that she hasn't done anything wrong. "No, no, I just- it's been a long while since anyone called me that." Anna just looks at her before her eyes widen in understanding.

"Your... sister?" she asks, and Elsa nods. Her lips curl in a gentle smile.

"You remind me of her. She was always so bright and happy. She'd wear her emotions on her sleeves, never mind how it rankled some of the older elves. She was to be Queen of the sand tribes while I remained here. She would have been fantastic."

A familiar pang shoots through Anna; she knows how it feels to lose the one closest to her. She clears her throat and offers a smile.

"Why don't you tell me about her over breakfast?" she suggests.

Elsa smiles at the idea. "Why not?" she says. "But, I think I'll lead the way."

It earns a chuckle from Anna, and Elsa decides that she really likes the sound.

* * *

The solarium is a cozy little chamber at one end of the palace. The ice that makes up the outer walls is completely see-through, allowing an uninhibited view of the surrounding land. Anna hadn't realised how far she'd walked, but Arendelle is beyond the horizon, completely out of view. Not that it matters much, truly; there's plenty more to catch her eye. The solarium sits above the small city, and Anna ends up pressing her face against the wall, trying to drink in the sight.

Even though it's summer, a light coating of snow covers the buildings and street. Anna doesn't bother asking how or why – she expects the reasoning to be something along the lines of 'magic'.

Behind the city, on the opposite side to where Arendelle is, there's a mountain. Or, rather, the peak of one, because Anna gets the feeling that despite the plateau the city is built on, it's part of the same range.

"How come people don't find this place?" she asks. "There's plenty of Samí tribes in the area that would walk through here."

"My spells. They deter the casual wanderer. In local lore, this place was the site of foul deeds, and the Samí people avoid it. For others, I just make them not _wish_ to approach."

Anna frowns. "But... I wanted to approach..." she says, and Elsa shrugs.

"I cannot explain that. It has never happened before."

With a nod, Anna turns completely from the wall and sits on one of the seats opposite Elsa. A woven blanket has been placed over it for her comfort, and, with a gesture from Elsa, she leans forward and begins eating what looks like a cloudberry, but it's a rich red, with a a flavour that Anna can't even begin to describe.

"Mmm..." she voices, the fruit melting on her tongue. "What is this? How-?"

Elsa smiles. "Elvish fare is very hardy. These – rana – are a fruit that have been bred to survive up here; other varieties were created to be suitable for the sand tribes, and I daresay that Ekud will bring some of his own food as offering from the eastern deserts."

"Ekud?"

"Ah, the leader of the eastern tribe – the Vetrstøv Clan. One half-moon hence, you shall meet him and his kin."

Anna nods, and there's silence for a moment save for her chewing. She gets juice over her chin and barely thinks about the mess she's making until Elsa laughs again. Hastily wiping her mouth, Anna blushes. "Sorry," she says, but Elsa waves her off.

"Don't be. It's fine – it's good to see you're enjoying it. It was my sister's favourite fruit."

"What was she like?" Anna asks softly, looking at her lap. Elsa sighs, and a wistful look builds in her blue eyes.

"She... was like you," Elsa begins. "I said as much earlier, I suppose. Strong and wilful, but she was always, always smiling. She was old by the time I was born; nearing her two hundredth birthday. But she never acted older. Back then, there were a great many children. We were populous, nearing a hundred thousand in total. Dispersed over the world, of course, but this city once encompassed the whole of Svea Rike.

"But I'm getting ahead of myself. My sister loved me from the moment I was born, and I her. We did everything together. I was so angry when my parents forbade me from marching with her, and I still am, sometimes. I would have perished, but we would have perished together."

Anna swallows thickly. "What was her name?" she asks.

"Aerya. She had hair the colour of fire, and a temper to match, too," Elsa chuckles, but it's soft and watery. "It's been so long since I could talk about her..."

Anna's heart goes out to the woman in front of her, and in a moment of courage, she reaches out a hand and grips Elsa's. Elsa returns it, squeezing Anna's fingers in thanks.

They're silent for the rest of the meal, but it's comfortable. Anna doesn't really doubt the idea that maybe they could be friends.

Maybe they already are.

* * *

Elsa leaves her after breakfast. Anna understands; while elves _do_ seem incredibly relaxed, she supposes someone still has to run the city. She's not really sure what, precisely, Elsa's job is as Queen, but she supposes that it isn't any of her business anyway.

Kristoff meets her in the foyer with a lopsided grin. He has an ice-flower in his hand, and Anna can't fight back the pleased blush.

"Trying to charm me?" she asks, and he lets out a bark of laughter.

"I am much less smooth," he says. "This is from Mÿr. I told the Blessed Child I was seeing you today, and I was given this to give to you."

Anna takes the flower, slight confusion on her face. But, she smiles anyway. "Tell Mÿr 'thank you'," she says. "What's the plan for today?"

"Elsa wants me to teach you various etiquette for the Morning Ceremony. She's in a better place to explain the intricacies than me, but there are certain things that you're going to have to know."

Anna frowns, and the smirk Kristoff has on his face is absolutely terrifying.

"Well," he says, "You have to be naked..."

* * *

They're at his house. Anna's insisted on complete privacy – not for the nudity, because they're only practising verbal things – but rather to shield her from the disapproving looks from the other elves.

Kristoff's home is small, but cozy. There are precious few personal items, which make Anna realise that the palace doesn't have many, either. Elves don't seem to be sentimental creatures.

She finds it strange, but she doesn't have much time to think on it because Kristoff fills her head with the strange _customs_ , ones she has to memorise and understand before the 'Morning Ceremony'.

"It's a ceremony celebrating the Birth of the Elves," he explains. "At a time _before_ time, the first elf fell from stardust. She created the beginning of time, and fifty rotations saw a mate follow her. The stars were impressed by all she had created, and wanted to thank her, so they created one. And when they kissed, the whole earth felt it – their bond was so strong that it seared their skin and created the first Bond Marks.

"So, every fifty years we hold the celebration in the Heart of the City. It's the only time regular folk can enter. Beneath the Heart, we give thanks to the stars and celebrate the fertile season."

"Is that why there aren't many children?" she asks. "Wait, Falo and Mÿr were born outside the fertile season..."

Kristoff shrugs. "It's not precise. True, we're only fertile for a few months every half-century, but they're twins, and Mÿr is blessed. It's how we knew something was special from the beginning."

With a nod of understanding, Anna gestures for him to continue.

"So, yes. After that, most elves stay behind. Elsa won't, and neither will you. You'll probably go back to the palace to change – if you want – and we share food beneath the Heart."

"What do the other elves do?"

Once more, the smirk is back, and Anna can't help but regret – just a little – asking. "It is the _fertile season_ , Anna."

Jaw slack, Anna's face erupts in red, and Kristoff positively cackles. "You'll be fine. You aren't expected to participate, and Elsa doesn't. It's entirely optional."

Anna clears her throat and struggles to find words. "Uh, so I don't- um what- is there anything else?"

"You'll need to know the prayers. In Elvish. The ceremony doesn't go for very long, but there's still a lot to learn. Tiril and Mÿr have more central roles, and Elsa has a small part. You're just going to be someone praying."

"How many prayers are there?"

"Oh, about a dozen." Anna groans. "But they're all pretty short. So, I'll be teaching you. We'll go slow and you'll see that it isn't going to be hard. We have a half-moon."

Anna nods. More than enough time.

Maybe if she doesn't mess up, the elves won't hate her quite so much.

* * *

They only end up studying the greeting before lunch, and Anna's halfway to memorising the first prayer when a messenger from the castle comes calling. How they always seem to know where she is, she doesn't know, but she's only grateful it isn't Mela.

It's a young elf, she thinks, and he looks familiar. Just looking at them, Anna would have thought they'd all look the same, but they don't. There are subtle differences, just like, she supposes, there are difference in the features of her own people. His hair is thick and long, and it's braided elegantly with precious beads or stones or something. Maybe it's his eyes; they seem travelled, but there's still a youthfulness in them.

"Cirava," he introduces himself as. "We met, your first morning here, though you probably don't remember me."

She doesn't, not really, but she's not going to say that. Kristoff gives her a tight smile as Cirava guides her out the door.

"Tomorrow?" she asks, and Kristoff nods.

"Tomorrow. I'll be there after breakfast."

With that, he waves goodbye, and Anna's shepherded out the door and into the setting sunlight.

They walk in silence, but it isn't the comfortable kind, like with Elsa. It's strained and tense, and Anna is decidedly _un_ comfortable. She's almost wishing that it was Mela who had come, if only because she knows where the young elf stands, and where she's coming from. Cirava is an unknown entity.

They're halfway to the palace when he turns away, down some sort of side street. Anna frowns, but follows him – perhaps it's a shortcut? Cirava shoots her a smile over his shoulder, and Anna relaxes. She takes longer steps to catch up, and they're almost step-in-step when suddenly he whips around, pushing her against the wall. Anna's cry of surprise is cut short when one hand comes up to cover her mouth, the other one wrapping around the base of her throat.

"Not one word," he says, and all Anna can do is nod weakly. She still lets out a little whimper when he removes his hand, and she can feel warm tears filling her eyes. Cirava doesn't do anything for a few moments; he just stands there, watching her.

"Are you going to kill me?" Anna asks. Her voice trembles and cracks, and when Cirava laughs, she thinks it's the most terrifying sound. At once, the futility of life comes rushing at her. She escaped her husband with her life, and thought she'd found a new one here. She wishes she could thank Elsa for her hospitality, but it's a little late for that, now.

But then Cirava removes his other hand from her neck, though he doesn't back off. "I'm not going to kill you," he says. "You're not even worth the cloth on your back."

"Wha-?" Anna's rubbing desperately at her face, and when she looks at Cirava again, he hasn't even bothered to hide his disgust.

"Pathetic," he says, and Anna decides that she actually sort of hates elves. She understands why they hate her, but couldn't they just be _quiet_ about it? She's done nothing to incur their rage, save for being who she is. "I've spent time with your kind," he continues. "I know them. I know how they think and see and feel. I know how you hurt others, and I know how you _get_ hurt. You'll turn against your own family if it means saving yourself."

Anna glares at him through her red-stained eyes. "I'm not like that," she says, voice low. He gives a shrug.

"You're all the same. I may not wish you dead, but be warned, _Anna_ – there are those who will take an opportunity. Retribution for the lives your kind stole from us, in a battle that was never yours to begin with."

He takes a step back and makes to spit at her. Anna's shut her eyes, so though temporary blindness will save her, when a new voice enters the fray.

"Anna!"

Anna pinches her eyes open and glances down towards the main street. She expected Kristoff, or perhaps Mela. Maybe even Elsa – it must have been some time since she was called to the palace. She didn't expect the twin elves to be standing at the entrance to the alley, looking at her and Cirava.

They're holding hands, blessedly clothed. Falo's wearing a robe, buttoned up the front by what looks like carved seeds. They shimmer and shine in the light like a beacon, and Anna takes one more look at Cirava before she's stumbling over to the children. Mÿr's wearing a shift, almost exactly the same as the one Elsa wore when she first introduced herself to Anna. Mÿr isn't smiling, but Falo is, and he reaches out his free hand to Anna, who grasps it gratefully.

"Are you on your way to see Elsa?" he asks, and when Anna nods, he grins wider. "So are we! We'll take you there."

Anna can feel Cirava's eyes on her as she leaves with the children, but save for when she's with Elsa, being with Falo and Mÿr, she feels just as safe.

* * *

Dinner is actually a success, as opposed to the previous night. Falo and Mÿr stay for a bath, and somehow they even convince Anna to get in. Elsa's in the room, keeping an eye, but out of respect for Anna she still averts her eyes when the redhead climbs in. The children, of course, have no such qualms. Whatever fragrance they've used has left the water slightly murky, which certainly helps when it comes to protecting her modesty.

Falo and Mÿr comment on her body hair, and her face flames, but they're more intrigued than anything. Explaining human puberty to elvish children is a novel experience, and Elsa laughs at Anna's embarrassment.

With pleasant company, and without any snide remarks from Mela, Anna finds this night to be much more enjoyable. The good feeling doesn't disappear as they convene in the dining room, and Anna's given a taste of traditional elvish dishes; not the single pieces of fruit she'd had until now.

And, for the first time, she hears Mÿr speak. Contrasting with Falo's loud nattering, Mÿr is incredibly soft-spoken. Every word that comes from the Blessed Child's mouth seems to be one of great thought; not a single word is uttered for the sake of being spoken.

Unless they're talking directly to Anna, the children speak in Elvish. Anna thinks she recognises a stray word from the greeting she had to learn from Kristoff, but if she's honest with herself, it's probably something completely different. She was never one for languages – her tutors kept quitting, much to the chagrin of her parents (though her sister found it funny).

Predictably, the children fall silent during dessert – some kind of honey and mint concoction that has Anna watering at the mouth – and Elsa takes the chance to ask about her lessons.

The first thing Anna says is, "Elvish is hard." Elsa smiles at her, and waves a hand.

"You're an intelligent woman, Anna," she says, "I'm sure you'll do fine. Kristoff is a good teacher."

Anna scoffs at the first part, but nods. "He is. He's a lot of fun to talk to, too."

Elsa just smiles and finishes her dessert.

After the plates are cleared away, and Falo and Mÿr are falling asleep where they sit, Elsa gets up. Anna follows suit as the Queen approaches the children and attempts to get them to stand up.

"Bed time," she says. Mÿr stands on wobbly feet, by Falo refuses. He reaches out, not for Elsa, but for Anna to pick him up. Elsa's just about to softly reprimand him when Anna darts forward.

"I got this," she says, and Elsa nods. Taking Mÿr's hand, the four of them walk down the empty halls together.

"Where are their parents?" Anna asks softly; Falo's practically falling asleep on her shoulder. He isn't heavy – not at all – and she doesn't want to jostle him.

"They live with the Vetrstøv Clan," Elsa explains. "This is the capital, of sorts; Mÿr will live here forever, and Falo will be here until his fifteenth birthday, after which he'll travel to the Vetrstøv and live for a sun. Once upon an era, elves would travel to every city and live for at least a sun, to get an idea of the world and our very small place in it. There are only a few cities left now..."

"Sun?"

"Oh!" Elsa looks at Anna, an embarrassed smile on her face. "What you humans call a 'year'. You know, you're not the most accurate time-keepers," she says, and Anna laughs.

It doesn't take long to put the children to bed; Mÿr is complacent and Falo's already asleep. It seems strange, Anna thinks briefly, the idea of children living away from their parents. If Anna didn't know better, she'd think that (with the way Elsa treats them), they might have been her children. It's... really sweet.

They're standing in the hallway, discussing the plans for the next day, when they're approached by another figure.

"Tiril," Elsa greets, "Good evening."

"Your Majesty. Anna."

Anna gives a little wave. Tiril's very presence demanded respect, and though she didn't seem to dislike Anna at all, she also seemed to be one who was good at hiding her true intent, if she so chose. She looks between Anna and Elsa, a slight frown on her face before it morphs into one of sheer happiness. Anna doesn't understand when she begins speaking.

"Congratulations, Elsa," she says, "I told you that the pond would help." Elsa's eyes widened, and short of any answer from the monarch, Anna speaks up.

"What's the pond?"

Ignoring her, Elsa manages to find her voice, spluttering, "Tiril! I told you I would not go there, and I haven't. Why you would assume–?"

"–There is a change in you, Elsa, just as I said there would be. If not there, than perhaps Miss Anna...?"

Elsa glances at Anna from the corner of her eyes before switching to Elvish. She doesn't sound happy, but the lilting language is very deceptive. Anna's just about completely zoned out, resigned to the fact that her question won't be answered – not that Elsa _has_ to answer it – when Tiril turns to her. Elsa says one more thing, and there's a barely-concealed eye-roll from the priestess in response.

"Thank you, Anna," she says, before turning to Elsa. "You do not need me tonight."

Before either Anna or Elsa have a chance to respond, she's turned on her heel and sweeping down the hall. Elsa lets out a huff of annoyance and says something under her breath before turning to Anna.

"I apologise for my rudeness," she says. "There was a... problem. Personal matter." She shakes her head. "Shall we?"

Anna follows her dumbly down the hall, trying to process everything.

* * *

The following day, they're walking down the main street of the city when Anna turns to Elsa, a frown on her face. She doesn't say anything, though, just looks away and keeps walking, so Elsa has to take the lead.

"Something the matter?" she asks, and though Anna shakes her head, Elsa finds she doesn't quite believe her. She levels a stare, and after a few seconds, Anna relents.

"I just... am a bit confused," she says. "About something you said, before?"

Elsa looks partially curious and partially scared – she's probably imagining the conversation with Tiril the night before – so Anna ploughs on. She doesn't like that expression. "Just... you mentioned that there used to be thousands of elves. But you're so advanced. I just... have difficulty understanding how humans killed so many..."

Elsa is silent for a moment as she observes Anna. The redheaded girl isn't quite sure what Elsa's looking for in her expression, but then Elsa is moving again, towards the back of the city.

"You have noticed the marks on our skin?" She phrases it as a statement, but there's a lilt at the end of her sentence. Anna's fallen into step beside her again, and nods once.

"Um, bonding marks? Kristoff explained them to me."

Elsa hums lightly. "Bond Marks. You see how some are bright, almost glowing, and others are faded?" Once again, Anna nods. "Those that are faded signify that someone is lost," Elsa says quietly. "Few elves remain behind after their Bond-Mate has passed on. We feel it, when they do. It cuts through us; part of our soul dies, and sometimes, the rest can't recover. Few do, and even fewer still ever find another one."

Anna gasps, hand covering her mouth. She takes another look at the elves around her. Most don't have any marks of their own, but several do. Out of those, the minority by far are faded. And then she looks to Elsa again, eyes roving over the Queen's own marks.

"So... your Bond-Mate..."

Elsa swallows and nods. She isn't looking at Anna; she doesn't see the girl move until two arms are wrapped around her. She hears Anna sniffle, and slowly, her own hands come up to rest on Anna's back. Anna doesn't release her for some time, and she's acutely aware of the crowed they've drawn. But, that fact is relegated to the back of her mind because Anna's warmth is penetrating her clothes and her skin, and it feels so much better than even gjalpë zjarr on a frozen day.

How long has it been since she had last been hugged? How long since she had felt such tender affections? Elsa has to actively steady herself against Anna; tired of the view, she closes her eyes and just _feels_.

Eventually, Anna extricates herself, smiling and wiping her face. "You make me cry too much," she says, and Elsa chuckles.

"You bring it on yourself," she says, "Asking all these questions. Curiosity killed the cat, isn't that how the saying goes?"

Anna nods. "But satisfaction brought it back," she recites, smiling. It falls as she seems to suddenly realise how many elves are watching. She feels very small under their intense gazes, so Elsa links their arms and pulls her along.

"Come now, Anna, or we'll never make it to the Heart of the City."

The rest of the trek is made with light conversation between the two. It gives Anna time to just stop and reflect at how much her life has changed. She's only been in the city for a couple of days, and she's able to talk to the Queen as though she's a long-lost friend.

Eventually, they get to a door in the side of the mountain. At least, Anna thinks it's a door. There are engravings that she can't read – they look like runes, but where her own writing system is jagged, full of straight lines and harsh corners, this one is smooth and flowing.

She turns to Elsa to ask what says, but the Queen is focussed on something else. As Anna watches, a pane of clear ice grows, building from a flurry that bursts from Elsa's hands. The elf quirks a grin.

"Magic," she says, and all Anna can do is nod dumbly. Magic.

Anna watches in complete awe, eyes wide and jaw slack, as the pane grows into a wall, of sorts. The light from the sun filters through and hits the wall of the mountain, and Anna gazes in mounting wonder as the writing begins to glow. It shifts and changes, and within a few short seconds, it's no longer a wall, but a _door_.

"This," Elsa says, grinning wildly, "is the Heart of the City. Only the leaders of the clans have the magic to open this door – the only time people can enter is on official business, or during our celebrations."

"And this is official business?" Anna asks. Elsa just smirks.

"Of course not. This is playing hooky with official business."

And with another grin, thrown over her shoulder, she entered.

Anna's only slightly hesitant when following her, and that's only because she can't see two feet in front of her. She calls out Elsa's name, softly, but it still echoes. One hand is against the wall, and she feels the whole place shudder as the door closes behind them. In the overwhelming blackness, she feels more than just tiny. She's just about to call out Elsa's name when a smooth hand slides into hers.

Anna feels a warm breath puff over her cheeks, and when Elsa murmurs, "Trust me," in her ear, she thinks she can hear a smile. She turns her face a little, and she can't hold back her own grin as their noses brush. Elves are not as tall as the stories would tell.

"Okay," she whispers back.

With Elsa's hand in hers, Anna doesn't fear walking into any walls. They don't speak, as though conversation will wake the mountain gods from their slumber, but that doesn't mean they're silent – or rather, Anna isn't. If it weren't for the hand in hers, she would never have known that Elsa was walking next to her; several times, she almost walks into the Queen, unable to tell where the darkness stopped and the elf begin.

Contrarily, she seems to be made of nothing _but_ noise; scuffles of her feet, her breaths that quickly become pants. They're heading down, she thinks, but she isn't really sure. The path twists and turns, and Anna wonders how the elves are all supposed to fit down the narrow walkways.

Eventually, Elsa slows and releases Anna's hand. It feels cold, without the elf's presence (even if she _did_ create ice not that long ago), and for a second, Anna becomes disoriented.

Elsa's voice, muttering something in Elvish, steadies her. Gives her an anchor. She creeps forward, towards the sound. Elsa must have heard her, because she reaches out another hand, wrapping it around Anna's waist as she tugs her closer.

"Ready?" she asks, and Anna can only nod. She knows Elsa can feel it, so she doesn't bother speaking. "Close your eyes."

It makes no difference to her whether her eyes are open or shut, but there's a smile in Elsa's voice – an excitement that seems so foreign. It infects Anna, lifts her heart and puts a small, anticipatory smile on her face.

Her eyes are still shut when she feels a warm breeze on her face, and they're still shut when Elsa guides her forward, step by tentative step. It's the first time since arriving that Anna's experienced any kind of ambient warmth, and it's almost enough to make her open her eyes. She doesn't, because she sort of wants to hear that same exhilarated excitement in Elsa's voice.

She isn't disappointed. She can't really imagine Elsa giggling like a schoolgirl, but the way she sounds, it's very close.

The first thing Anna notices is how _bright_ the cavern is; the second is that it truly is a cavern. It would fit Arendelle Castle in it a hundred times over – both in height and in breadth, she guesses. It's only a guess because whatever is causing the light makes it impossible to see the roof.

Beneath her feet is the greenest grass she's ever seen, emitting some strange fragrance that goes straight to her head. Anna giggles, and then giggles some more at the sound of her voice echoing around.

"What _is_ it?" she asks. Elsa doesn't say anything; merely smiles and beckons her closer.

Together, the two of them make their way to the top of a small mound. The rest of the area is flat, and from the height Anna _truly_ gets a glimpse of the sheer size. Arendelle is surrounded by mountains and hills and the fjord that leads into the ocean. She's never seen such an abundance of _land_. She's so distracted that she doesn't notice Elsa, whose arms are stretched up to the roof, calling the light towards her.

It's only when Elsa whispers, "Look, Anna," that Anna tears her gaze from the room and back to her friend. The light is not one giant object, but rather made up of what must be hundreds of thousands of little floating orbs. They hover, far too high to be reached, but it doesn't matter because Elsa seems to be able to call them with little thought. She waves one hand, calling Anna over. The little light lands in Elsa's hand and dims, enough for Anna to make out its shape.

It's some kind of stone or crystal, it seems; oblong in shape, about half the size of her own head. Elsa holds it like it's made of glass – or diamond. She holds it like it's the most precious thing in the world. It pulsates gently, and with a smile, Elsa holds it out to Anna.

"What is it?" she repeats, reaching out tentatively. Surely Elsa isn't going to trust her with such a gem? But the Queen keeps holding it, and with more care than Anna ever remembers doing anything, she grasps the light. It's warm and pulsing in her hand, and seems to glow a little brighter in Anna's hand. "Is it _alive_?" Elsa nods.

"Sort of," she says, before adding, "You make it happy." Anna lifts a hand and runs a finger along the top. The stone seems to hum, and she smiles again. It does seem happy. If that's possible.

"So... what is it?" Anna repeats, eyes locked on the light.

Elsa clears her throat and moves closer. "It's an elf heart."

Anna fumbles and Elsa lurches forward. They catch the light at the same time, and once Anna's sure Elsa has it in her hands, she lets go. "A _what_?"

"An elf heart," Elsa repeats. With it sitting on her palm, she opens her hand, and it floats up to join the others. "When we die, our hearts crystallise. If we get to it in time, we can... hmm, harvest, I suppose, the heart. A heart on its own is just that; a heart. But put them together, in this room and, well... elf magic is powerful magic. There is more power in this room than the greatest cities in Europe."

"So this is the Heart of the City," Anna says. "Literally... hearts..."

And then she's laughing. She plops on the ground, looks up at the ceiling, and just giggles. Elsa gives her a strange look, but follows her to the floor, smiling.

"This is amazing, Els," she says. Her eyes widen briefly before she grins. "It warms my heart that you showed me this."

Elsa quirks an eyebrow. "Was that a pun?" she asks. "That was terrible." She shakes her head and Anna shrugs.

"Bah, your heart just isn't in it," she counters. Elsa glares at her for a second before they both descend into laughter once again.

Above them, the hearts seem to shine even brighter.

* * *

Anna swiftly falls into a routine. Every morning, she'd wake up and have a pleasant breakfast with Elsa. Usually, it would be in the dining room or the solarium, but a few times she was taken into the town. The elves soon stop caring about her, and they go about their day content to completely ignore her. Occasionally, Elsa would introduce her to someone; she'd usually get a pleasant, if empty, smile of acknowledgment before they moved on. She's not sure if Elsa knows she knows, but it's a matter that hardly seems worth bringing up.

Mela hasn't bothered with her since that first night in the bathroom. Anna doesn't know why, but she's definitely not going to complain about it.

She's had another meeting with Elsa's councillors, too. Most of them were unremarkable when she first met them, and they remain so this time, too. She avoids Cirava's gaze – and everyone else's – by looking at the floor most of the time. It works quite well, the 'humble' thing, until one of the elves stands up and approaches her.

He's old. Of that, Anna is certain. There are crows feet around his eyes, and he has the kind of weariness that comes, not with age, but with hardship. His eyes are a light grey, and they pierce through Anna and make her shirk back in fear.

It's unfounded, of course. No one would harm her in front of Elsa, and he's a nice enough person anyway. He claps her on the back and gives her a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, and he welcomes her to the city. It's better than anything Anna's had from anyone else, and she soaks up the gesture. His expression might have been rather empty, but the effort wasn't, and she appreciates it all the same.

The days are spent with Kristoff, learning the prayers and greetings, and other various things she apparently needs to know about the elves. He tries to teach her a little of their history, but Anna discovers that unless it's Elsa sharing, she finds the whole business rather dull.

He takes her around the city and asks her questions of life in Arendelle. She doesn't tell him of the recent developments, but he seems happy enough to listen to her waffle on about her childhood.

She begs him to teach her how to read Elvish, too, but he refuses. They have too much work to do with the spoken language; reading isn't important. There's an unspoken _maybe after the celebration_ , but it's coupled with an _if you're still here_ , and Anna doesn't like thinking about her future beyond the next two weeks.

Dinner is taken either in the dining room, or Elsa's bedroom. Elsa quizzes her on the prayers, and Anna finds she cares a lot more about the Queen's opinion than Kristoff's. She tries harder, but still screws up. While Kristoff meets each mounting error with a strained smile and a, "Let's try it again," Elsa is much more open in her praise and much more reserved in judgement. She still corrects – recasts and clarifies and provides feedback on the phonology – but only when Anna desperately needs it; when her words are incomprehensible, or the sentences a jumbled mess. Each correct utterance is met with a growing smile and encouraging nod.

The first time Anna makes it all the way through with no mistakes, it's three days before the festival, and the night before Ekud and the Vetrstøv clan were to arrive. Elsa only wanted to go through it once – they had other things to discuss, and there would be less time to chat until the celebration.

"You should know about Ekud," she starts by saying. They've taken dinner in her room again, away from the bustle of the palace as rooms are prepared and the larders stocked. "He is a wonderful leader, but he allows his heart to rule his head too often for my liking."

Anna looks at Elsa, taking in her words but not really sure where she was going with them. Elsa sighed. "He, like many of our people, dislikes humans. I wish you could remain by my side until he has left, but unfortunately there are certain rules we have to obey."

At that, Anna nods. She vaguely recalls Kristoff telling her of some kind of sabbatical, but she was sure he only mentioned Tiril. When she brings it up, Elsa nods.

"Yes, only Tiril. I'm talking of political rules. My time will be taken up as escort for Ekud and several of his dignitaries. And..." Elsa trails off and looks away, embarrassed, "I'm afraid I'm going to be a terrible host again," she says. "You will have to stay at Kristoff's."

Anna frowns. She doesn't really want to argue against Elsa – and if the Queen, in her capacity as monarch, asked her to do something, she'd do it – but, "Why?" she asks. "I mean... I thought I was 'mystical' or whatever–"

"–Mysafir–"

"–Yeah, that." They share a smile before Anna continues. "Surely it doesn't matter?"

Elsa sighs, long and low. "Ordinarily, I'd agree with you, Anna. I'm sure Pabbie will have words for me when he finds out. This isn't about your standing at all – or, rather, it's about your status. For as much as you've adopted our customs with an acceptance I could only have dreamed of, you are a human. Ekud would take it as a personal insult if you shared accommodation. It is wiser for me, and safer for you, if you are not in the castle while he is."

Anna nods. "So what's the plan, then?" she asks. Elsa gives her a relieved smile.

"Thank you for being so understanding," she says, but Anna shrugs it off.

"I get it," she says. "Politics. Sometimes it makes us do things we don't want to..." She gives a half-shrug, a _what can you do?_ , and Elsa sighs again.

"Okay," she says. "Tomorrow, breakfast as usual. As much as I would like to take the day off to enjoy with you, I have to entertain. There will be a meeting in which we discuss news and developments, and a small banquet. Unfortunately, I can't get a place for you." Elsa grimaces, and to Anna it looks like it really physically pains Elsa to say such things. Anna reaches out her hand and squeezes the Queen's gently.

"The day after, you will have to meet the Vetrstøv Clan. They will likely be unhappy at your admittance – a human hasn't partaken in an elvish ceremony in centuries – but they will have to get over it. It is not an unprecedented event. Even my own people won't argue against it, so you should have no problems. Just in case, though, Kristoff and Tiril will both be present, as will my council and I."

Their hands are still joined, and Anna finds herself not wanting to let go. She looks at them absentmindedly; such fingers could create _ice_ , and yet they brought more warmth to her than anything she'd ever felt.

She feels suddenly compelled to tell Elsa how much she appreciates her company, but it gets stuck in her throat. All she manages is a hoarse, "Thank you for being my friend, Elsa."

It's the first time she's ever called Elsa that out loud, but the way Elsa looks at her, she has a feeling the elf was calling _her_ that in her head, too. Elsa reaches over and envelopes her in a hug, and repeats the same words in Anna's ear.

It's not much, but it's something.

* * *

"Welcome, friends, to the City of Elves."

Elsa's voice carries clear over the gathered elves. She gives a diplomatic smile, and sees the same one returned on Ekud's face. There is no love lost between the two, and the entire assembly knows it. Nevertheless, she continues.

"Our brothers and sisters to the south are too few in number to join us here, but let it be known that their spirits are with us as we celebrate this momentous event. In two days, we begin the Morning Ceremony. Until that time, you are all free to experience the city as you would your own. Until the celebration, enjoy."

She gives a small bow and leaves the room.

The Vetrstøv Clan is smaller than she remembered. It's possible that some chose to stay behind, but few do. She resolves to ask Ekud when she has a chance.

She knows he doesn't trust her. It's in his eyes, the way they rove over her figure. She's too youthful, too inexperienced. Never mind the fact that she's successfully led her people since her coronation.

His ideas are too outdated, and she's sure she'll hear even more of them. Her councillors are already in the chamber, additional seats surrounding the table and filled with the colours of the Vetrstøv. Ekud is waiting for her, tapping his heeled shoe against the floor impatiently. Elsa grins; she's still taller than him.

"Greetings," she says. "I hope you weren't waiting long." Ekud scoffs.

"When you have lived as long as I," he says, his moustache quivering with every word, "another few moments makes little difference."

"I do pride myself on punctuality," Elsa responds acidly. She turns to address the seated group before Ekud can come up with a retort. "How fares the east?"

There's silence for a few moments, and every eye in the room turns to Ekud. He stands, taut as a bowstring under the scrutiny of his peers.

"Mmm, well," he says. "We have had a problem with the local _human_ population." He spits the word, and the gaze of Elsa's councillors shifts to her. She gives a minute shake of the head, before Ekud notices, and they return their eyes to the shorter elf.

"Your wards have failed?" Elsa asks, frowning. Ekud visibly chews on his words before he answers.

"No. But they're getting too rowdy; expanding their borders and taking over the villages that provide the seeds for our own harvest. We must stop them before we perish too."

Elsa's eyebrow quirks, and she leans forward in her seat. "Surely you aren't proposing war, Ekud?"

There's an uneasy murmur around the table at the very word, and Ekud shakes his head.

"Of course not!" he says. "A war suggests we might lose. I am proposing... well, just to do away with them altogether. Who needs humans?"

Elsa's eyes widen; while her reaction is subdued, her council does not follow her lead. Most of her councillors spring up, and the uproar shakes the table as fists bang and harsh words are exchanged. Elsa says nothing, too busy observing. Ekud's people are unsurprised; they'd likely discussed it back home. Among her own councillors, both Cirava and Kasi remain seated, the latter deep in concentration and Cirava looking incredibly bored.

She trusts her other councillors to follow her, but those two are unknown; Cirava for his youth and Kasi for his poker face.

Elsa is calling for silence, though isn't getting very far, when the doors to the chamber open. It isn't the sound but the light that filters in from the hallway that causes everyone to pause and turn, look at who would intrude – without knocking – on a council meeting.

Mÿr stands at the door, though Falo is nowhere in sight. Elsa rushes forward to take Mÿr's hand and lead the Blessed Child from the room, but Mÿr refuses. Everyone watches in silence as their meeting is essentially hijacked by a seven-year-old, until Ekud finally speaks.

"What is she doing in here?" he huffs. "This is not a place for children."

There's a strained silence from Elsa's council, and an expectant one from Ekud's, and Elsa sits down on her chair, Mÿr on her lap.

"This is Mÿr," she says. "Our Blessed Child. You should know better, Ekud." His face pales, but within a few seconds he's regained his composure.

He's standing, though he's still barely taller than Elsa, when he says, "It doesn't matter. A child is a child and this is a _council_. Please remove this 'Myr' from the room."

Elsa's scowl darkens. " _Mÿr_ ," she corrects. "And wherever Blessed Children want to go, they shall go." Even Mÿr is frowning, but Ekud refuses to back down.

"My mother is from your clan," Mÿr says slowly, words soft. "Where is she?" Mÿr is looking directly at Ekud, and even as he flounders for an answer, no one wants to say anything.

"She, uh, didn't come with us," Ekud eventually says, but Mÿr is not happy with that answer. Neither is Elsa, but when the child asks _why_ , and Ekud can't answer, she takes control.

"Hey, Mÿr," she says softly. "I'll take it from here. Why don't you go find Falo and go and see Anna? I'm sure she's lonely."

With a small nod, Mÿr slides from Elsa's lap and moves toward the door. As soon as it shuts, Elsa rounds on the foreign leader.

"Where is Mÿr's mother?" she demands to know. Her hands have slammed down on the table and she doesn't realise she's jumped to her feet, Ekud cowering beneath her. The shorter elf doesn't have to say a word for Elsa to realise what the answer is. Her face falls slack just before it hardens into a fierce glare, borne of rage and refusal to believe what her instincts are telling her. Mÿr's mother isn't here because she isn't _here_.

"It was the humans!" Ekud exclaims, but Elsa doesn't care to listen to him.

"The mother of a Blessed Child and you _let_ her die!" she cries out at him. He's shaking in his shoes, the heels clacking against the ice. Elsa turns from him and addresses the people at the table.

"I refuse to sanction a war," she says. "It is a ludicrous suggestion; the aim here would not be to 'teach humans a lesson'; rather, it would be an attempt to assert our dominance, and I for one will not stand for it. We live in the shadows; we have for years, even before the Great War. You're talking about genocide, and that's _not_ the way we do things."

With that, she stands and makes her way towards the door. Just before she gets there, she hears a soft voice calling for her attention.

It's one of Ekud's elves – one Elsa noticed earlier as not having taken part in the argument. The elf gives a little cough and looks away, even as Elsa nods her permission for them to speak.

"Who- who is Anna?"

Elsa's expression softens, but the smile she gives is nothing of the sort. It's hard and wicked, and she enjoys the answer far more than she should.

"She's a _human_."

* * *

Elsa can't be bothered with the niceties she's supposed to display. She's left the palace in a furious rush, thinking. She has to find a way to break the news to Falo and Mÿr, even though she knows it's too close to the ceremony for this drama. There's nothing she can do about it now.

It doesn't take her long to walk to Kristoff's home, with her mind churning the way it is. The little cottage is a welcome reprieve from the stifling atmosphere of the castle, and she spends a moment just looking at it.

She still hesitates at the door before sighing. She's being stupid, waiting.

It doesn't take long for the door to open once she's gained the confidence to knock. Anna's smiling, and it only widens at the sight of Elsa.

"Hey! Elsa!" she says, face flushed and beaming. "I didn't- what are you doing here?"

Elsa's own smile is tight, and she has to swallow several times before she can answer.

"I just met with Ekud and his council," she says, "And there is some... news... that pertains to you and the children. Might I come in?"

Anna's face has fallen, and her eyebrows are lined in a worried frown as she nods. She beckons Elsa inside, taking her hand, and Elsa relishes in the contact. It won't make it any easier, but she can at least pretend.

* * *

Kristoff doesn't say anything. Anna doesn't know where to begin. Falo and Mÿr fall into silence, and they refuse to be comforted by Elsa and Kristoff. It's only when Anna approaches them, sitting next to them and not saying anything, that they respond.

Falo climbs into her lap and holds her tight. Mÿr leans up against her and sobs silently.

The pain will pass, Elsa knows. It always does. But they don't have an easy path. She might, closer to the Morning Ceremony, come to regret telling the children, but right now, she knows it's for the best. They deserve to know.

She and Kristoff leave the room silently, converging in his small kitchen. He goes to work cutting up a platter of fruits and cheese, and doesn't speak. Elsa can't bear the silence.

"Thank you, Kristoff," she begins. "Ekud's people are unhappy with her presence. They're planning something, I know it... but I know you'll keep her safe."

Kristoff nods, but his back is turned to her as he slices the fruit, and she can't see his expression. It doesn't give Elsa much to work with. When he turns around, his face is schooled into one of mild neutrality, but the platter hits the table slightly more forcefully than necessary.

"Pardon my frankness, your majesty," he hedges. Elsa gives a nod for him to continue, and watches as his expression morphs into a frown. "Why... does it matter? Why not just send Anna back? Why include her in our ceremonies? I'm not against it, but I can see why Ekud would be unhappy with the arrangement."

Elsa sighs, biting her lip. Kristoff is trustworthy, she knows, but there's still a limit to just how much she's willing to reveal to him. She decides that there's no harm, however, in giving him something. He's an ear to listen to.

"Pabbie," she begins, tired. "Pabbie said some things and I...can't...ignore his words. Anna is important." She turns her head to the doorway, as though she might see Anna through the walls. Kristoff follows her gaze, and hums.

"Yeah..." he says.

If only he knew the half of it.

* * *

It doesn't take long for Falo and Mÿr to fall asleep. Elsa and Kristoff find them still curled against Anna. Her left arm is around Mÿr in a half-hug, while she uses her right to hold Falo on her lap. Elsa feels just as drained as Anna looks, and as soon as they move the children to Kristoff's bed, the elf just wants to collapse. Kristoff does; he falls asleep on the floor next to his bed, just in case either of the children wakes up. Elsa offers Anna her arm, and the two leave him to it. They don't have a direction in mind as they head into the city.

The moon has risen, casting a serene light over the city. Anna is warm at her side. They don't speak; the weight of the day has finally descended. Elsa just wants to sleep, but she can't bring herself to return home.

She isn't even sure what home is because this girl is so warm and so comfortable at her side. For the first time in decades, Elsa feels like she's found an equal; a friend.

And Anna looks beautiful in the moonlight.

But she doesn't say anything. She just lets Anna hold her.

"I'm sorry..."

The silence is only broken when they've been walking for almost a half-cross, and Elsa can't help the almost-smile that rises to her face at the sound of her voice. It doesn't take long to fall, and this time it's accompanied by the tears she must have been suppressing all day, because when they come, they come hard and fast.

Anna doesn't say anything after that. Once again, they're stuck in the middle of the street, hugging, but this time there are no faces to gawk.

Her face is pressed into Anna's neck, dampening the skin there, as she shakes with silent sobs. There's a soothing hand on her back, rubbing circles, and Elsa just wants to melt into the embrace.

Sometimes, she hates being Queen.

* * *

They don't manage to talk the next day. Elsa had calmed herself and walked Anna back to Kristoff's, before spending a sleepless night lying atop her sheets, curled in on herself. In a few hours she'll have to face the Vetrstøv, all but throwing Anna to the wolves. She wonders if she should go and ask Pabbie if he would mediate, but decides against it.

There's little can be done, now.

They convene once again in the council chambers. Anna's wearing the clothes she arrived in, though they're freshly cleaned and laundered. She stands taller than that time, head high and commanding, and Elsa can see how she's a queen herself. There's a hesitancy in her eyes, still, in the way they flicker too often towards the elvish queen, but even within the depths, Elsa can't see fear or despair. Anna gives her a small smile, and Elsa wonders if perhaps she was not doing the comforting, as she had assumed, but rather was being comforted.

The previous night still weighs heavily in her mind. Tiril, seated at her place at the table, catches Elsa's eyes and gives a frown. Elsa ignores it, and hopes she'll do the same. Her sleep was restless, and though she must had spent many hours pondering it, Elsa still can't quite determine what made her let go in such a manner. Grief, for the lost elves, yes. Sorrow and sympathy for Falo and Mÿr were there, too.

She swallows back the emotion building in her chest and steps forward.

"Good morning, everyone," she says. "You all know the reason I have called you here, I would assume."

No one says or does a single thing when she pauses for a breath. Good. Likely, they don't want to draw attention to themselves after the previous day.

"I spent the night thinking," she prefaces, "and have made a decision. Unless he chooses it himself, Falo will not be travelling to the Vetrstøv on his fifteenth birthday."

Ekud's council cries out, but Elsa raises a hand to stifle them. "I have made my decision," she says. "I expect you to follow it." When she's satisfied that Ekud and his council will remain quiet, she lowers her hand.

"Now, as I mentioned yesterday, we have a human in the city. Pabbie dubbed her Mysafir, and I trust that everyone will respect his decision, and respect her."

There's a low grumble throughout the room, but Elsa ignores it. Instead, she turns to Anna and beckons her forward. It's only when she comes to a stop at Elsa's side that the Queen turns back to her people.

"This is Anna. She is under my protection, and believe me, I _will_ know if anyone tries to harm her. Have I made myself clear?"

The room nods. They're not happy, she can tell, and she certainly doesn't trust Ekud's men. But Anna won't be left alone – and she doubts they would try anything so close to the ceremony.

"Good," she says. "You are all dismissed."

She waits until the last person has left before she turns to Anna, a relieved smile on her face. "Now that's finished," she says, "Would you like to have some tea with me?" Anna gives her own smile, and nods.

* * *

"I can't believe how...commanding...you are," Anna says. "I wish I could be like that."

They're in the solarium again, eating some type of sun-baked sweet and drinking a tea that Anna's unfamiliar with. She wonders for a moment how _anything_ could be baked in the sun here, with it being so weak, before realising that the answer would likely be the same as every other time. Magic.

Elsa titters for a moment, looking away as her face fills with colour. "I'm sure you are," she says. "And it's only when I have to be."

Anna offers a shrug. "If I was, I think I might've been able to keep my throne," she says softly. "I was never really made to be queen."

With a frown, Elsa leans forward. "What makes you say that?" she asks, and Anna shrugs again.

"If I were any good, I wouldn't have been run out of my own city. Wouldn't have married the man who caused it."

She's not crying, but she does look... glum. Her eyes lift to meet Elsa's, and she forces out a little smile. "Not that I regret anything that's happened here. I enjoy this city, and... I enjoy your company. I just wish I could have said thank you to the people who cared about me. Said I was sorry and said goodbye."

Elsa understands. So she moves even closer and takes Anna's hand, an the two of them sit together for the rest of the night. They don't speak, but they don't have anything they need to say anyway. This is enough.

* * *

"Good luck. You can do it." Kristoff's smiling at her, but Anna feels sick to her stomach and his expression isn't really helping. She gives Kristoff a shaky nod, and tries to smile. It comes out forced, but this time she feels a little better.

She's not looking forward to the next few hours. She'll never tell Elsa, but being in the city at the same time as Ekud is something she never wants to go through again. He'll be leaving soon, she knows – as soon as the celebration is over, there's little reason for them to stay.

Anna just has to make it through the next few hours in their company. She receives several smiles from Elsa's elves, scattered more among the surprised glances that she's even participating.

Kristoff takes her to the palace; she'll arrive with Elsa and Tiril and Mÿr – part of being Mysafir, she supposes. She doesn't have a special role beyond saying the prayers and greetings, but that's more then enough for her. Kristoff wishes her good luck once more as he leaves her in the foyer, waiting for Elsa.

It gives Anna more time than she'd like to reflect. She's decked out in a simple piece of material, not unlike that first outfit Elsa had met her in. She's acutely aware of the lack of underthings beneath it, and the knowledge that she'll have to remove it to enter the Heart is something she doesn't want to dwell on.

She's saved from her thoughts by a small cough, and Anna turns around only to find herself face-to-face with a blushing, giggling Elsa. She gives a sheepish smile in return, and looks the Queen up and down.

Elsa's hair is down, tumbling around her shoulders. It's longer than Anna remembers it, and she wonders, briefly, if elvish hair does grow faster. The only two she's seen in the city who have short hair have been Kristoff and Falo, and they each have their own reasons. Elsa takes her hand and directs her, spinning her on the spot. When they're facing each other again, she gives a sharp nod of approval.

"You look wonderful," she says softly. "Like one of us."

Those simple words are, in all honesty, just what Anna wanted to hear. It doesn't matter that she knows most of the the elves won't agree. She's just a human, after all. Not one of them. But if Elsa accepts her, well, that's all Anna needs.

They're joined by Tiril, whose grin only seems to widen at the sight of Anna. "I hope you enjoy your day today, Anna," she says. Anna returns the smile, though hers is a great deal more reserved.

"I'm sure I will," she says. Elsa gives a pointed cough, and they're all ushered out the door.

The city is fairly quiet now. Most of the elves have already made their way towards the Heart. The ones she can see are completely bare, and she has to avert her eyes when a few catch her looking.

She's slightly curious, but not enough to actually voice her thoughts. They're nude because the ceremony calls for it, she knows. She knows that she'll have to do the same before entering.

Anna's not typically body-shy. On the contrary, she quite likes the way she looks. She hated wearing clothes as a child, and it was only puberty that brought an end to it. But this is different. She was a child then, surrounded by people she knew. It was in her home, not in public. And _she's_ different.

The elves are so _beautiful_. They're lean and graceful, all rippled muscle and gentle curves and soft skin. Unblemished skin, quite the opposite of Anna's freckles.

She's going to absolutely wreck their festival because she isn't one of them.

Anna turns to Elsa, prepared to tell her that she doesn't feel well – she should stay home while Elsa celebrates – but Elsa's already looking at her, a soft smile on her face, and Anna's fears melt away a little. Elsa thinks she can do this. She believes in Anna.

Anna holds her hand out, and Elsa takes it gladly. She _can_ do this.

* * *

The first thing she sees is the almost-alarming amount of skin. Never mind the fact that propriety – or at least her idea of it – doesn't exist; it's still _snowing_. And while Anna knows that inside the heart, it's quite a balmy temperature, it doesn't excuse the chill that's currently infecting her pores and burrowing down into her bones. She trembles, but honestly, she's not sure if it's entirely because of the cold.

The other elves are all looking at her, too, but this time, they aren't frowning. She supposes it's because Elsa's around to actually see it, and she averts her eyes. She doesn't want to see them. The floodgates holding back her insecurities open once again, and she's just about prepared to high-tail it out of there. The only thing stopping her is Elsa's hand in hers, applying a gentle pressure. The only blatant animosity is coming from Ekud and his people, and even then, most just look uneasy.

With the two groups standing next to each other, Anna's able to actually take in their differences and similarities. They all have the gentle grace and willowy limbs. They all have delicate features and strong eyes. But where Elsa's people are tall, Ekud's are short. Where hers are wiry, his are heavy-set. And they're all waiting for the woman Anna's currently holding hands with.

Elsa leads her past the people. The door opens easier this time; it doesn't take as long, and isn't as loud. Anna takes a step forward, but she's halted by Elsa, who shakes her head minutely.

They stand back and let everyone else head through first. Anna wonders, briefly, just how they were going to get through to the heart without Elsa there to open up the final entrance, but she brushes it to the side. It's unimportant, at any rate. Anna's just grateful because the longer she can put it off, the longer she can retain the use of her clothes.

Unfortunately, all good things come to and end, and the last elf walks through the archway, leaving Elsa, Anna, and Tiril alone. The priestess looks between the two queens and excuses herself, shucking her robe as she steps through the tunnel.

Anna looks away, blushing furiously as Elsa begins to peel away her own layers. Never mind the fact that she's already seen Elsa naked – it's still weird. Everyone else was just that – another person. But Anna knows Elsa as a person, a friend. It's _strange_. She's never had friends to bond with, let alone girls. All the children in the palace when she was young were boys, sons of other workers. She's heard from other staff; her nanny, Gerda, and Cook, that it was normal for girls to change in front of each other. As natural as breathing, really. Anna was expected to retain slightly more propriety but she's always wondered how people could go through such... _intimacy_.

But then Elsa is completely nude in front of her and she hasn't even made a move to begin undressing. With shaky hands, Anna starts unravelling layers. She has to do this – if she can't even do it in front of Elsa, how can she walk out in front of hundreds of elves?

Elsa's politely averted her gaze, even as all Anna can do is look at her. In part to gauge her reaction, but also... because she can. She was too mortified last time, but Elsa truly is beautiful. Lean, rippled muscle, hidden beneath her faded Marks. The pale, burnt umber covers her like claw marks, sharp and jagged. It feels like protection, to Anna. Like territory. Proof that Elsa once belonged to someone, and someone belonged to her.

Anna's jealous. She can admit that. Her own marriage is a farce, and she had learnt from a young age that she would not marry for love. It would be a bonus, if it occurred, but it would not decide whom she did or did not marry.

But he'd seemed so _kind_. Maybe she had fallen for him, blinded by his affections. Of course there were signs, but she hadn't heeded them; it wouldn't have made a difference. He'd still control the kingdom. There was no 'what if' future that would have been any better than this one.

As she looks over at Elsa again, slipping the last of her clothes from her shoulders, she decides on that truth. This is the best possible outcome. She has friends here. She has a life, of sorts. She's only a guest, but she feels more at home here, in the company of a friend, than she's felt since her parents' death. Since the lost of her sister, her best friend.

"R-ready," she croaks out. Elsa whips her head up, a heavy blush climbing up her face. But she's smiling, eyes never straying from Anna's. She takes a few steps forward and lifts her hands. Anna feels a tug on her braids, and realises that Elsa's undoing them.

"This is better," she says, and Anna just nods. She doesn't think she could find the courage to speak again.

The walkway is still as dark as ever. Anna presses closer to Elsa, unwilling to scrape her skin on the walls (wherever they might be). Elsa's hand rests in hers, snug, and she doesn't seem to mind the closeness. Anna has to remind herself again that nudity is not unusual or shameful here. No one else cares, so she shouldn't either.

These thoughts carry her through the tunnel, and before she really has time to contemplate it, they've arrived at the end. There isn't a wall blocking it this time; this time, it's wide and open, and Anna can see hundreds, probably _thousands_ , of elves, looking towards her, and she realises that she doesn't want to be afraid anymore.

So, with a smile from Elsa, she steps forward and into the light of a thousand hearts.

* * *

Every single elf, save for one, is kneeling. They're arranged in a circle, facing the slightly raised hill, Tiril stands there, smiling. It's slightly strained, and Anna can see the way she shakes a little. If she stops to think about it, it makes sense. Whenever she was in the presence of other elves, she stood back, or to the side. Anna's eyes widen in realisation; Tiril doesn't like being the centre of attention.

But she still smiles and in a voice that Anna can't tell whether it's shaking or not, begins to speak. Anna recognises the words; it is the first greeting – more like a prayer to the heavens or stars or who- or whatever the elves prayed to. She can't remember if Kristoff explained it, but she's sure she wouldn't really understand anyway.

Elsa is a statue next to her, eyes trained forward. They're bright – brighter than Anna thinks she's ever see them – and truthfully, she looks beautiful. She casts a furtive look around, and with an internal sigh of relief, notes that no one is actually looking at her. They're all focussed on Tiril.

Anna almost misses the cue to reply, and when she begins speaking, she realises that maybe Elsa and Kristoff were a bit pre-emptive in their assessment that she was both ready and any good. She stumbles over the words, which only causes her to panic because Elsa never said what would happen if she messed the whole thing up. Would their God be angry?

It only results in her messing up the whole thing, and she can _hear_ , her voice one of thousands, how terrible she sounds. She feels Elsa shift next to her, and knows she's being watched. It doesn't help, and she fumbles further. Her heart sinks enough for tears to spring to her eyes because she can distinguish Elsa's voice from everyone else's, and hers _ring_ with power. Anna may as well have been speaking Arendellian.

But then Elsa's hand is in hers and, through the tears, she can see a soft, warm smile on Elsa's face. An encouraging smile. The sounds of the thousands in the room continues, but Elsa isn't speaking anymore. There's an expression in her eyes that Anna can't place, some intense emotion that she can't even _begin_ to categorise. It's intense, and even as she regains the flow, her eyes never leave Elsa's.

She still slumps a little when it's over, eyes falling to the ground. Elsa's fingers squeeze hers softly, and it gives her enough energy to look at her again.

Elsa doesn't say a word, and Anna starts to think that there's some sort of taboo against speaking during the ceremony. Not that it matters – Elsa's eyes, and what emotion Anna can actually name swirling in there, conveys more than enough.

The ceremony continues – no Gods strike them down for her slip-ups – and Anna grows even more confident. The only time Elsa's hand leaves hers is when she has to stand up and address the crowd. Anna doesn't know what she's saying, but it gets movement out of Ekud and his council. She gestures to the Hearts above them, then to Anna, and smirks when Ekud's face goes red with poorly-concealed anger. Anna would have laughed, if only because his expression made him look like a dazed ptarmigan. Her eyes never left him, though that was more in part because she felt her entire face go red whenever she looked at Elsa.

Undoubtedly, the highlight was when Mÿr, sweet little Mÿr, wandered up. A custom that hadn't been performed in decades, the cavern was filled with the sound of singing. Mÿr's voice was soft and gentle, and it brought Anna to tears for reasons she couldn't quite explain.

She wasn't alone with this; sparing a glance at Elsa, who had since returned to her place next to Anna, she noted that the elf's eyes shone with unshed tears, and Anna found herself reaching over and taking her hand. Elsa didn't hesitate to hold it back, giving Anna a teary smile.

There are a few more rites and hymns to say, and each time, Anna finds herself screwing up less and less. She's murmuring along to the final one when she realises, almost with a start, that her worries had melted away with the ceremony. Her nakedness wasn't even on her mind, and no one else seemed to care either.

And then Tiril is closing the ceremony. She says something that causes the elves to shift, and she sees a few press close. They have Bond Marks, and she realises they've bonded. Swallowing drily, she looks away, and her eyes fall on Elsa. There are tear tracks, lining her cheeks, but what sets her apart from the other elves whose Marks have faded is her expression.

Anna squeezes her hand again at the sight of the watery smile, and Elsa's eyes find hers again.

It's only later that Anna realises just how much Elsa's own Marks seem to have faded since she first saw them.

* * *

Elsa is infinitely aware of Anna next to her, warped and mutated Elvish springing from her lips. But, it isn't _bad_. It sounds, perhaps not better, but interesting for having gone through the change of Anna's language bias. It rings of an accent that Elsa hasn't heard in centuries, one that had been lost after the Great War and they'd never really found the courage to try again..

It's usually a lot further into the ceremony that she begins crying. It's typical, almost expected of every elf, that tears will be shed. The pure power is one major part, but for Elsa, it's when the ceremony turns to the circle of life. Tiril speaks of give and take, and Elsa remembers her history. She remembers her sister, and she remembers her Bond Mate, and she wonders why both were taken from her.

For so long she blamed herself; she was cursed, didn't deserve happiness because why would some higher being rip it from her otherwise? But she got through it, though tried and tested, and was better for it. She doesn't fear happiness as she once did. There's enough punishment in love as it is, she figures.

So when Anna squeezes her hand, she can't help the smile even as it appears through her tears.

There's reward in love, too, she knows, and it makes the dark times bearable.

* * *

Tiril concludes the ceremony by pouring wine. Ten chalices are passed around, in different directions. When it gets to Anna, Elsa makes a small noise in her throat, and she's given a curious look.

"Go easy," Elsa says. Her words are still hushed, but as far as Anna is aware, there isn't a rule on speaking at this point in the ceremony. She takes a sip, and it fizzles pleasantly on her tongue. So, she takes another drink, and giggles at the look of exasperation on Elsa's face.

Elsa doesn't say anything; she just takes her own drink and passes it to the next person. But, then she shoots Anna a small smile and Anna knows she isn't actually upset. It brings another smile to her face.

The alcohol certainly helps with Anna's embarrassment. Standing up isn't quite as harrowing, and though she feels the eyes of the other elves on her, she doesn't seem to care. Elsa's hand is _still_ in hers, and it's only when they're halfway back to the palace that Anna notices no one else is following.

"It gets cold, afterward," Elsa explains when Anna voices this thought. "The heat comes from the Hearts' power and- well, you may not have felt it, but it used a lot of power back then. It will fade until the next moon, and then recharge again for another half-century."

Anna nods, before she trips over her own feet and lands in a pile. She giggles as Elsa helps her to her feet, and some part of her realises she's probably a little drunker than she intended. What was in that wine?

She's led to Elsa's chambers, a single candle lighting the way before Elsa lights a fire. The warm light flickers across the room, and over where Anna's left standing. Elsa rifles through her wardrobe, muttering to herself, before pulling out an outfit of some kind. She hands it to Anna, telling her to put it on while she moves to another drawer.

Anna struggles with the dress; there seem to be too many holes, and she has no idea how to orient it. But, it is undeniably warm, and even though she knows it's not on properly, she doesn't even care.

Elsa returns a moment later, carrying a small box. She grins at Anna's dismal attempt at clothing herself and, handing her the box to hold, begins correcting the outfit. But, she doesn't say anything.

Her fingers brush across Anna's skin every so often as she adjusts the outfit. The cool digits leave a trail of goosebumps, and Anna becomes aware of Elsa, still naked in front of her.

"You aren't getting dressed?" she asks, and Elsa shakes her head.

"It doesn't bother me," she says. Flicking Anna's collar once, she stands back to look at the girl. The light highlights the side of Anna's face, brings out her freckles and green eyes, and Elsa can't fight – doesn't _want_ to fight – the smile that rests on her lips. "You're beautiful," she whispers, and her voice echoes through the room.

Anna erupts in a gorgeous blush, and coughs awkwardly, averting her eyes. But then she bites her bottom lip and looks at Elsa through lidded eyes. "Really?"

Elsa doesn't answer with words. She steps forward and takes the box from Anna's hands. "I- my sister... gave this to me a very long time ago," she begins. She's looking at her hands, not at Anna, when she speaks, and Anna's suddenly aware of how vulnerable she seems. But, Elsa continues before Anna has a chance to say anything – offer words of comfort, perhaps? – and so she just listens in silence.

"She was... she was my best friend, an- and now you are. So I want to give this to you."

The box is opened with trembling hands, and inside it is the most beautiful necklace Anna's ever seen. It seems to be made of the tiniest, purest diamonds. Hundreds upon hundreds line the jewellery. It was thick where it rest on the wearer's breast, but tapered around the shoulders to be held together by a single strand of what looks like glass. It can't be, though, because it's strong and it's flexible, and there's absolutely no way Anna can accept such a gift.

"Oh, _Elsa_ ," she murmurs. "It's absolutely _breathtaking_. I can't- I _can't_ accept this. It's worth more than my _life_."

Elsa makes a choked noise in her throat, and shakes her head. "No, no it isn't. Please, Anna..."

Still with reservations that leaned more towards how she felt than how Elsa did, Anna turns around. Elsa's hands are quick and efficient, doing the clasp within seconds. But, her hands don't move for a second. Her fingers gently strokes the back of Anna's neck, and swallowing, Anna turns her head to look at the elven woman behind her.

"...Elsa?"

And then she can't speak because soft lips are pressed against her own. Elsa's eyes slip shut as her hands come up to cup Anna's jaw. She savours in the taste of the girl, the feel of her lips moving against her own. Anna's lips push back in an subtle dance as her own hands come up to rest on Elsa's shoulders.

She tastes of fruit, and of the wine they'd shared earlier. Anna swipes her tongue along Elsa's bottom lip, begging an entrance that the elf gives gladly. It's nothing like her farcical marriage; like the single kiss they'd shared on the wedding day, and the single one he'd taken that same night.

This is soft and gentle, and Anna hadn't realised how much her body craved the gentle touch until she was given it.

This was how kisses should feel; warm and inviting. A gift, from one to the other. She feels Elsa's tongue move against hers, sucking gently, before one of them made a low moan. Anna couldn't have said who did it, only that it breaks her from the spell of comfortable familiarity – of _longing_ – and she jerks back.

Elsa's lips are wet and swollen, and her still-naked chest heaves with heavy pants. The sight of her arousal is obvious, with the heady tint of her eyes and in the peaks of her nipples; but, it's the fact that Anna can feel it in her own features that makes her want to run away. Her heart is beating a mile a minute, and she can feel tears prickling at her eyes.

Betrayed. She feels betrayed.

"W-why?" she croaks out, arms wrapped protectively around herself. "I don't- Elsa?"

Elsa just looks at her for a moment, mouth opening and closing without making a sound. Finally, she clears her throat.

"Didn't you _feel_ it, Anna?" she asks softly. Anna gives a watery scoff-turned-hiccup, but even as Elsa darts forward to comfort her, she moves away again.

"Feel what? The betrayal I felt as my _best friend_ kissed me?"

She makes another noise and looks away, blinking away the tears that rapidly begin to form. She doesn't see Elsa lift her hand, an attempt at placation, but she certainly feels it when the elf places it on her shoulder. She brushes it off harshly, pushing Elsa away.

She doesn't say a word as she brushes past Elsa, and out into the silent castle.

* * *

Elsa doesn't come to the celebrations, and Anna hates how she can't stop thinking about it. Her whole body seems attuned to the fact that Elsa _isn't here_ , and the only thing that seems to be able to drown it out is the wine the elves keep supplying.

She's sitting with Kristoff, Mÿr, and Falo – Kristoff by choice, and because the two children didn't seem to want to sit with anyone else. Mÿr keeps giving her a strange look – a frown; lip-biting – but doesn't say anything. Anna wonders if the Blessed Child can tell, before brushing it off as preposterous. It's Falo who asks where Elsa is, and Anna's only able to lie, telling him she's sure the High Queen will be joining them soon.

She doesn't think that at all.

Everyone is sitting on the grass, sharing fruits and breads and wine. The cavern fills with conversation and laughter, but Anna can't find it in herself to join in. Kristoff keeps trying to engage her, but her answers are short and clipped, and he soon gives up.

It's only when the elves begin to leave, groups of two or three or four, that Anna initiates conversation. Not everyone is leaving – it's only a small group, really. Perhaps a third of those assembled. But, it's the fact that the groups are mixed, with some of Elsa's people, and some of Ekud's, moving to leave together. They haven't seemed to mingle until now, so she turns to Kristoff to ask.

"Wh- where're they... goin'?" she asks. She notices Kristoff frown and take the glass from her hand, but he starts speaking so she loses the ghost of a thought that had begun to form.

"They're going to the pond," he answers. "The ceremony isn't quite finished for some, and they continue it there."

Anna frowns, eyelids heavy. She sways a little where she's seated, and the next thing she knows, she's leaning against Kristoff, his arm around her shoulders. "Wassa pond? I wanna- wanna go," she says softly. Kristoff colours a little, and clears his throat.

"It's an elvish thing, Anna," he says, "And anyway, we're still having a party here. Gotta wait for Elsa, right?"

Anna doesn't say anything for a moment. When she does speak, her voice is low and thick. "She isn't- isn't coming," she says. Kristoff glances down, but Anna's shut her eyes. "I said something and she's probably really hurt and she's n-not coming..."

Kristoff hums in his throat, "Maybe you should go and apologise?"

Anna shakes her head. "Not- not tonight," she says, and Kristoff understands that. She's had enough wine to knock out a lightweight elf, and elvish wine is definitely not designed for human consumption.

When she collapses in an attempt to stand up and begins to cry, he knows that now is the time to leave. Falo and Mÿr each take one of her hands while Kristoff leads the way. She seems to have collected herself – enough to walk – even as her mouth scrunches up in an ugly grimace and tears pour down her face. The sounds she makes are completely undignified, and she bows her head when they don't seem to be stopping.

The walk back to Kristoff's home seems to take an age, with Anna tripping over her own feet in both her drunkenness and emotion-fuelled blindness. Falo is talking, to Anna, to Mÿr, or to himself in general, Kristoff isn't sure. Either way, his words seem to be helping, and by the time they arrive at his front door, the tears have stopped and Anna's merely sniffling.

Before they turn to leave – Mÿr will stay with Tiril, so Falo will probably seek out Elsa – Mÿr tugs Anna close. She's given a kiss on the cheek by the Blessed Child, and a hug, but she isn't really given a chance to actually respond.

"Take care," Falo says softly; even his wave is sombre as he takes his sibling's hand and the two make their way down the path.

Kristoff leads Anna inside and to his bed. She slumps unceremoniously in a heap, and refuses to move. She looks at Kristoff with wet, doleful eyes. "Why does it hurt?"

Because it _does_ hurt. There's a heat in her heart that she's never felt before. It feels like it's slowly being ripped apart, piece by piece. It's more than heartbreak, and it's _so much more_ than just betrayal. She wants nothing more than to take Elsa into her arms and squeeze her in an embrace. She _needs_ to feel her in her arms, but her mind balks at the idea.

How can she feel both simultaneously used and betrayed, and yet like it is the most perfect thing to happen? The kiss... it was full of an emotion that every other kiss she's had has lacked. There was a warmth and a neediness. A want.

But she can't act on it; refuses to act on it. Even as Kristoff gives her a sad look, an answer of _there's nothing I can do to help_ , she can see a similar emotion in his eyes. He's the closest person she has, sans Elsa, and right now, she can't be alone. She's breaking apart at the seams; the stresses of living in a society who hates her kind; of the events of the night; of Cirava's threats and Ekud's hatred... Anna needs a friend.

So when Kristoff makes to go, she whimpers, holding out a hand to him. "Please don't leave..."

He hesitates a moment, but he's never been one to shun another when they're down. He slides into the bed with her and just holds her as she cries into his chest.

* * *

Elsa is woken from her slumber by a gasp and the sound of something 's barely dawn when she jerks up, knowing she's only been asleep for a few hours, if that. Her face is sticky with the salt of her tears, and her body – and heart – aches. A hand comes up to the flesh of her chest, pressing down for a second before she focuses her attention to the source of the noise.

She feels numb; she can't summon the energy to become angry, or to send Mela from the room. The elfling is bowed, prostrate on the floor even as her garments becomes soaked with water. There are croci, littered around her, and Elsa is somewhat put-off by the behaviour.

Mela is not usually so shy about looking at the Queen. On occasions, it's been cause for issue; it has, however, never been a _problem_. Not to the degree of breaking pottery.

And suddenly Elsa doesn't want to deal with this. She slips from her covers and wipes her face, commanding Mela to rise. She waits patiently in the middle of the room, watching Mela collect the shards of ceramic and dispose of them in the corner. She putters around making the bed and choosing an outfit for the day, all the while never once looking at Elsa.

Eyebrows quirked, Elsa stands still as a light, pale-peach shift is wrapped around her. As soon as she's done, Mela takes a step back and stutters out a, "Good day, Your Majesty," before all but fleeing from the room. She'll be back to collect the pot pieces, Elsa's sure, but if she's frank with herself, she's more worried about the maid's shift in behaviour.

When she looks at herself in the mirror, it becomes so blatantly obvious, Elsa's surprised she hadn't remembered – thought of it – earlier. Maybe she didn't want to. She lets out a gasp as her hands come to cover her mouth, and she isn't sure what the tears are from. She _knew_ this would happen, she felt so last night, but seeing the actual evidence is something else entirely.

Because now, her faded Marks are surrounded by new ones; the deep orange that lines her body is complemented by swirls of sunflowers and light, and Elsa doesn't even know how to feel about that.

So she doesn't feel at all . She doesn't think; she races out of the castle to the one person who might possibly be able to comfort her.

* * *

"So it's happened."

The words are spoken with so little inflection it pains Elsa. She's on her knees in front of Pabbie, still taller than him, hands clutched to her chest. Her heart hurts _so much_. She wants it to stop.

Elsa looks at Pabbie with imploring eyes, seeking knowledge; seeking help. "You- you _knew_?" she asked, incredulous. Pabbie gives a nod.

"You cannot guard against yourself," he repeats, and Elsa's transported back to that very first council meeting with Anna. _It is the changing in_ you _that has led to this event ... you cannot guard against yourself ..._

Elsa stifles a sob with her hand, the other wrapped around her stomach. Her other marks – her _first marks_ – already seem so pale in comparison.

She once believed elves didn't find a second Bond Mate because losing the first so often killed them. She knows now that it's because the second one hurts too much.

Pabbie leans forward and takes her hand. His face is sombre, but as Elsa looks at him, he offers a small smile. "This is not the end of one love," he says, "but the beginning of another. Your love has not left this world; it has been reborn. It will only hurt if you push it away."

With a squeeze, he lets her hand go. "See her. She will be more scared than you." Elsa nods and stands on shaky legs. The sun has risen over the horizon, covering her city in a golden light. Soon, everyone will be moving about; she should see Anna before the news of their bonding spreads. She gives a small smile as a thought crosses her mind.

"Ekud won't be happy," she says. Pabbie shakes his head.

"He will not care. He has his mind on other matters." Elsa frowns, but she's ushered out the door before she can ask for clarification.

If it were serious, Pabbie would explain. So, heart heavy in her chest (but _so much warmer_ than it's been in centuries), Elsa makes her slow way towards Anna. She can't say she isn't scared; Anna's reaction the night before showed she hadn't thought of Elsa in that same way. But Elsa knows the humans' customs; two women, and two races, are never looked upon favourably. Anna just has to open her heart to the idea.

* * *

She's completely forgotten how early it is, and how late the celebration would have gone, so she's only partially surprised when Kristoff doesn't answer the door. Elsa isn't one to barge in, but Anna is in there, and it _hurts_ , being so close and yet so far away. When the door swings open at the lightest touch of the handle, Elsa doesn't hesitate to step through. She's sure Kristoff will understand.

He isn't on the couch, though, and she wonders if perhaps he didn't hear because he isn't home. The thought sends her heart into a sprint because there's no way she'll be able to ease Anna into conversation without his presence there. It only seems right, too, that Anna's closest friend (whom she hasn't bonded with) would be the first to officially know.

Elsa pushes open the bedroom door and peers through. The shutters have been drawn, and she wonders if Anna had something – had _much_ – to drink. She gives a light smile at the idea, which abruptly drops as her eyes adjust and fall to the bed.

"...Anna?" she croaks out, and there's a shuffle as the elf the redhead is wrapped around awakens. The material she'd dressed in the night before has come loose, exposing her back to the air; Elsa can see pale blue, almost pulsing, Marks against her skin, and she has to bite her fist as Kristoff's eyes finally find hers. He looks at her, groggy, before his face falls and his eyes widen as he takes in the sight of her own new Marks.

"Elsa-" be begins, but she doesn't want to hear it.

She shakes her head and turns on her heel, pushing her way through the door and out into the fresh air. It's stupid, she knows; the Marks didn't appear, he had no way of knowing. Anna pushed her away.

But it _hurts_. It hurts _so much_. She ignores the other elves, beginning their day, as she sinks to the ground halfway back to the palace. She lets out a bark of a sob before pressing her hand to her lips in an attempt to stifle it. The eyes of her people are on her, and she struggles to her feet just as Kristoff and Anna come tearing down the main street.

"Elsa- Your Majesty," Kristoff starts, "We-"

The High Queen shakes her head violently, not looking at either of them. She doesn't want to hear it. Anna takes a step forward – she's squinting at the bright light, and holding a hand to her temple, but she knows she needs to fix this, regardless of how she actually feels. It's her fault. Elsa wipes frantically at her face, removing the physical evidence of her grief. Her eyes are still red and swollen, nose pink, but she's not crying anymore; and, if she is, she's doing a great job of holding it in.

Anna opens her mouth to speak, but Elsa beats her to it.

"Go."

It feels as though the entire collective of elves observing takes a breath, and the very air becomes still. There are no sounds, and no movements, until Anna speaks.

"Wh-what?"

Elsa shakes her head again and swallows thickly. "Go. Back to Arendelle. Take Kristoff with you. Liberate your kingdom. I don't care. Just- go."

"Elsa, w-wait. We're- _look_. Bon- Bond Mates. I can't-"

With a breath, Elsa pulls herself up to her full height. "You said yourself, Anna. I betrayed our friendship. As a _friend_ , I am giving you an elf to protect you to reclaim your land. No doubt you will be happier there than here. N-now. I think you should leave. Good day."

Anna isn't able to do anything but watch as Elsa turns her back and makes her way towards the castle. The whispers start, but Anna doesn't hear them. Doesn't see them. She just sees Elsa's retreating back.

It feels like her heart is being torn from her chest with every step.

* * *

Ekud watches from his room. The expansive windows provide the perfect vantage point for both seeing and hearing the commotion below.

This...may prove to be advantageous. His eyes don't lie – there are definitely tears crawling down their faces as Elsa walks away. He smiles, and heads towards the door.

They – _he_ – had originally planned to wait several days, for the celebrations and revelry to truly lower the defences of the people and of the city. But now, well. It's obvious what the problem is, and the rejection of a Bond Mate is not something Elsa will easily be able to shake off. Of course, the rejection itself is unlikely because of the girl's human heritage, though it may have something to do with the mutant half-elf with her. Now's the perfect time to go ahead, while the Queen is distracted. The council won't know what to do. The people won't even know what happened.

He heads towards the door, opening it silently and peering out into the corridor. It's empty, save for his own guards stationed outside the room. Looking at them, he grins again.

"Let's move."

* * *

Elsa sends everyone away but Mela. The maid brings a plate of cacao and gjalpë zjarr, and doesn't say anything. Braids her hair and rubs her back when the tears become too violent. And once upon a time Elsa would care. She was a leader; she was supposed to be _strong_. But Mela doesn't blame her, and she doesn't pass judgement. She's warm and soft and Elsa thinks that it would all be so much easier if she had fallen for her instead.

The thought prevails that this is a time of celebration, and yet she can't find the light that had filled her only a few hours before. Can't even remember what it felt like because now it, and every other memory, is tinged with remorse and grief.

It's early afternoon by the time Elsa gets news of Anna's departure. She almost didn't believe the redhead would leave, hoped that she would argue against it. But now she is leaving, and the thought sends a fresh wave of agony through Elsa.

She tries to convince herself that it's for the best; Anna _does_ have her own kingdom, likely in ruin from the actions of her lecherous husband.

Anna has a husband, and here Elsa was, courting her. Just because they had different customs did not mean Elsa could disregard Anna's. Just because she was in a marriage without love did not mean Elsa could disrespect it.

Eventually, Mela is sent away too. Elsa can't be around her anymore; she needs time to grieve what she lost, and what she almost had.

It feels like no time at all between Mela leaving and Pabbie arriving – the sun's light has barely moved across the floor before he enters her room, a drink in his hand and a sad expression on his face.

"Up you get," he says, picking Elsa up from where she sits, slumped against the wall. He leads her to her bed and lets her sink onto the edge. There, he hands her the drink. "Take this," he says. "It will do a world of good."

She's in no position to argue, so she does as she's told. As soon as the liquid hits her tongue, she feels like gagging. But, there's a strange warmth that spreads through her chest, and she finds that the pain lessens the more she drinks. It's there, but... muted.

"This will only last a little while," Pabbie says, "but your people need you."

Elsa shakes her head. "I can't." Her voice is coarse and weak, and Pabbie moves forward to place a hand on hers.

"You have suffered loss," he says softly, "But it is little compared to what will happen should you not move now."

"Move against whom? What?" she asks. When Pabbie replies, she wonders why she needed to ask at all.

* * *

They don't talk. Anna isn't stupid, she knows what Elsa thought. But she can't even bring herself, despite the evidence, to admit her feelings for Elsa. How could she possibly go to her and tell her they didn't... didn't do _it_? Kristoff gave her a confused look at that.

"We didn't join, no," he says, bringing a blush to Anna's face. She likes him, yes, but it isn't a... _joining_... kind of like. It's a 'I will cry in your arms until I fall asleep' like.

But the look on Elsa's face...

Anna shakes her head to clear the thoughts swirling there. There's no point, anymore. Her eyes fall to her hands, upon which a pale pattern swirls lazily. Snowflakes. Typical.

She wonders, slightly, what her people will say – if they manage to see her before her husband kills her. She disappears and returns a month later, accompanied by a strange man, wearing strange garments, covered in markings. Will they care? Or will they just be happy at her return?

All the while, Kristoff just watches her. He takes the lead on occasion, trekking through rougher surface, or a dangerous incline, but he never says anything. Each breath becomes laboured the further away they get from the town, and the sun casts a gentle light over the forest. Anna thinks, in the distance, that maybe she can see Arendelle.

She doesn't notice Kristoff isn't with her for several paces; when she turns around, he's sitting on a rock, a few metres back. He gives her a look, and she can't decipher it.

"What?"

With a sigh, he looks away. "What are you doing, Anna?" he asks. She doesn't know what to say to that, so she opts for silence. "Your heart once belonged to your kingdom, but it doesn't anymore. What are you _doing_?"

This time, when Anna doesn't speak, it's not from lack of words. Her mouth hangs open uselessly because, with his words come the pain. The pain she could ignore, or redirect to her tired limbs and empty lungs.

But this? This she can't. Her entire _soul_ aches, as though shallow cuts are bing sliced into it, over and over again until it's nothing but ribbon.

She felt the same way when her parents died, except this time, she knows she can avoid it. All she has to do is go back to Elsa. All she has to do is explain and hold her.

But she doesn't do that. She sits down next to Kristoff and hangs her head. She _can't_.

"Why?"

It isn't until he speaks that she realises she's said that aloud. There's no point in not telling him anymore, so she does.

"We can't, Kristoff," she begins. "I'm- I'm a _human_. She's an _elf_. Immortal, magical, a creature of figment and imagination. Forty, fifty years and I'll be dead. It's better for everyone that it ends like this."

There's a rustle of leaves, and a laugh. Kristoff and Anna whip around to the source, springing to their feet. "Well," the newcomer drawls, "You aren't wrong."

* * *

Elsa is, somehow, able to put her feelings to the side as she marches towards the Heart of the City. Pabbie's potion helped somewhat. She's dressed and neat, a dagger tied to her hip as she calls ever warrior in the city to her side. Tiril approaches, Mÿr at her side, and asks what everyone must be thinking.

"Your Majesty, what's going on?"

Elsa doesn't break her stiff march as she replies. "Someone saw fit to use my...emotional state earlier...to enact a coup." Her people stand behind her – with her – and she has no fear that they would ever overthrow her, no matter what. Many disagreed with her and her actions, but she had led them well since her coronation. They didn't always like her, but they respected her.

It's because of this that she knows none of her people are behind it. There's a feeling in her heart, a simmering _rage_ that anyone would dare do such a thing. Ekud , it seems, is both a nuisance and a moron.

Elsa's not entirely sure what she expected when she arrived. His guards waiting, perhaps, with him already gloating. It seemed like a thing he would do. But there's no one. The door is shut. Her own magic fails to open it, and Elsa realises she has to wait. Those inside have nowhere to go but out, after all. She will simply have to wait them out.

Tiril is watching her with worried eyes, and though Elsa feels almost dead on her feet, she still offers a small smile – a lie, of course, but she doubts anyone expects anything more.

Just because she _knows_ that Ekud has nowhere to go doesn't mean she's happy about having to wait. Elsa just wants to go back to bed and sleep away the pain in her away this horrible day.

But she can't, so she sets her mind to what must be done. She's directing the guards, lining them up in rows to protect the less-abled citizens, and the city, to prevent Ekud escaping, when a shard of ice rips through her heart, leaving her cold and weak. She knows this feeling, has felt it before and barely survived that. She sways on her feet for a second before Tiril catches her.

"Someth- something's wrong."

Elsa's words echo hollowly in the space between them, and Tiril's eyes widen. The dizziness has passed, only for her to feel...nothing. She swallows back the bile building in her throat.

"Watch them," she says, and Tiril nods. She'll know what to do.

Without another word, Elsa starts running.

* * *

Anna can't help but shoot furtive glances at Kristoff. He's tied up against a tree, hands and mouth bound and absolutely useless when faced with an elf out for revenge – particularly when that elf is accompanied by at least a dozen others.

"Oh, don't worry, Anna. He isn't dead. Not that he'll be breaking free in time to help you, but you know how it goes."

She's tied up, too, standing in the middle of them all. Kasi, with a ceremonial dagger in hand, walks around her, in and out of her line of vision as he mocks her.

"If you'd just kept going, you'd be safe," he says. "You're not far from the borders of our lands, and there's no way I'd be bothering with you if you'd made it out. Your own people would destroy you far more effectively than I ever could. They do so hate anyone different."

Anna bares her teeth at him in a growl, and she struggles against the bonds. Kasi gives her a look before laughing. "Oh, don't bother. You won't make it out of them. Don't you want to know why I'm doing this?"

Anna shakes her head. "You're acting like I care. I'm going to be dead soon so why not just kill me now?"

Kasi's expression, until now, has been light and charming. Anna's not surprised he went undetected as a traitor.

"I'm going to tell you anyway," he starts again, tapping the dagger against the flat of his hand, "because you need to know _why_ you're being punished. Otherwise, it won't stick, and I'd hate to have to do this to someone else our _dear Queen_ loves. It is, after all, her fault."

Anna tries not to let it show, but she knows that Kasi sees her eyebrows lift and ears pick up. It's almost an involuntary reaction to hearing Elsa's name.

"You see, Anna, there was a war. And if it hadn't been for our _wonderful_ monarchs, we wouldn't have lost so many lives. Ekud is smarter than Elsa. He sees you for what you are. _Parasites_ , leeching off the earth, destroying everything. Elsa has no idea the power that rests in the city, but Ekud does. He'll use the Hearts to destroy your people and rebuild ours from the ashes. As it should be."

Anna let out a laugh, born more of fear than anything else. "They _chose_ to fight. They chose the die for their people. Who could you ever love- who could ever love _you_ enough to warrant this?" she asks. Kasi slashes with the dagger, the sharp edge missing her by an inch as he steps close to her, nose to nose.

"My son was killed in that war. Killed by filthy, degenerate _humans_. And now our Queen sees fit to _bond_ with one? Her own sister was bad enough, but wouldn't you agree that this is a sign from the stars that we need a new power?"

Anna's mouth goes dry. "Aerya bon- bonded with a human?" she asks, and Kasi's smile only grows wider.

"Oh no, dear thing. Aerya bonded with _Elsa_. Her own flesh and blood."

And then the knife comes at her, tearing towards the weak flesh of her neck, and Anna's last thought is of the woman her heart – her soul – chose.

* * *

Elsa's almost there when she feels it. She collapses into the snow, unable to remain on her feet because _oh god_ there's so much _pain_. It feels like the skin of her chest is being ripped back, piece by piece, and there's nothing she can do to stop it. No anchor on which to hold onto and ride out the pain.

 _No..._

She struggles to her feet, stumbling forward, and she has but a single thought on her mind.

 _No, please no..._

She almost misses the sound of footsteps, coming her way; as it is, she only just manages to hide. A group of elves, weapons in hand, thunder past, and in their haste, they don't see her pressed against a tree. It makes their tracks easy to follow, though, and as soon as she's sure there's no one else coming, she sets her sight on the mess of snow their boots kicked up.

And then she's the one running, because maybe there's time to fix everything. Perhaps not all is lost, she thinks, even though she knows it's a lie. Her feet take her to a clearing, and she _knows_.

Because Anna's lying in the middle, next to a body that is far more broken and bloodied than her own, and her heart seizes. Her breath catches in her throat and she can feel the blood draining from her face as she walks forward.

And everything is lost.

Her steps come faster and faster, falling heavily on the ground and making a noise so undignified for an elf. All the animals have long since fled; there is no one to bear witness as Elsa collapses next to Anna, next to her Bond Mate, and whisper her name. It's a prayer, a call. A beg and a plead because no, _no_ , she can't lose anyone again. Can't lose the one so important to her heart again, not when she's only just been able to move on from the first one.

Elsa's last memory is of her forcing Anna away. She thought the pain was worth sending her Bond Mate away.

It wasn't.

Elsa cradles Anna's head, unable to truly see her features for the tears that don't seem to want to stop falling. Until this moment, she didn't even realise she was crying. Her hands are covered in blood, and Elsa chokes back a cry. She leans down, head coming to rest on the top of Anna's chest as she tugs the red-head closer; one final moment to be together.

And then, unbelievably, she feels something below the skin. A steady, rhythmic beat.

Elsa sits back up, looking at the woman in her arms. Now, she can see the gentle rise and fall of her chest. "...Anna?" she whispers. Anna's eyes twitch and move, and then they're open and blinking at Elsa. Elsa's lips widen in a smile, and she feels her own heart beat again, this time not laboured or painful; this time without the touch of glass, ripping into it where her Bond Mate should be. Instead, it's _peace_.

And then Anna's hands find their way behind her head and before she has a chance to react, to say or do anything, Anna's pulled their heads together, lips meeting lips in a fervoured act of sheer _want_.

Elsa does nothing but respond, pouring all her grievances and pain, but also her love and joy, into the kiss. She's crying again but this time, it isn't out of heartbreak, but of _love_.

Slowly, though, it comes to an end. It has to as Elsa pulls back. She needs to see Anna, needs to see her happy and well and oh so _alive_.

"H-how?" she asks, eyes raking over Anna's skin. Her snowflake Marks curl and flow over the side of Anna's face, moving down her neck to hide below the bodice of her dress. Elsa realises that she's wearing the same dress she arrived in. It's covered in blood, but the blood isn't hers. It's from the body next to her, and Elsa has never been more relieved than in that moment. There's a groan from the edge of the clearing, and Elsa looks up to see Kristoff, tied up and gagged, looking at her. And she wants to be angry at him – he almost cost Anna her life.

"Elsa, we- we never-" Anna stammers, drawing Elsa's eyes back to hers. "It's... it's you. It's _you_ , Elsa, I could never- I was confused and I'm _so sorry_ —"

Anna's voice wavers before it finally breaks, and she's crying, tears streaking through the blood on her cheeks. It doesn't matter. Elsa knows. She always knew, but in her grief was too blind to see it. No longer. Her hands trail over the Marks on Anna's face, and she swallows thickly. "Please forgive me," she says, voice barely louder than a whisper. "It was my fault, Anna. You almost died because of me. Please forgive me."

Anna responds by kissing Elsa. Her hands brush over Elsa's Marks, both new and old,

He _failed_ to protect her...

... but she knows she's at fault too, so all she does is release Anna with another kiss and make her way towards him, undoing his bonds and helping him to his feet.

"Your Majes- Elsa!" he says. "They- the Heart. Anna-"

She waits for him to calm down, and as he regains his composure he begins to make more sense.

"They wanted the Hearts. _Kasi_ ," here he _spits_ the name, as though it isn't worth the effort of saying it, "wanted revenge. You... your protection spell saved her..."

Elsa looks over to the other body. Kasi, she can see now.

A dagger, plunged in his throat.

* * *

It does not take long to make it back to the city. The tracks of Kasi's men are easy enough to follow, stampeding through the forest like the world's most obvious reindeer. Kristoff explains the plan, as it was explained to them, but Elsa isn't fazed. There's no way for Ekud to get out of the city with the Hearts, and no way for him to use their power so soon after.

It was sloppy and uncoordinated, and there's no way he's going to succeed.

The sun is setting when they make it back to the Heart. The door is open, and most of the city has gone. Elsa can see Tiril, but the priestess is blocking her sight to the entrance.

When they arrive, Elsa can see why the people have left.

Ekud is standing at the door, hostage in hand. Mÿr's face is pale, but tear-free as the other leader jerks, looking towards the newcomers. He tightens his grip, and Mÿr cries out in pain and fear.

"You're supposed to be _dead_!" he screams, pointing at Anna with a frosted hand. She shrinks back, but he doesn't do anything else. He knows he has all the power, holding the Blessed Child,

"Release Mÿr," Elsa cries, commands, stepping forward. It only aggravates Ekud further, and he snarls.

"Get back!" he cries. Mÿr wails again as Elsa steps back, turning to Tiril.

"What happened?" she asks. Tiril is gnawing on her bottom lip, eyes fixed on Mÿr.

"He opened the door with Mÿr already in his hands. I don't know how it happened – I swear the child was with me. He demanded the people leave, before shooting his own ice at them. I sent them away and he called for you."

Elsa nods and turns to Anna. Her hands cup the red-head's cheeks and pull her close, pressing their lips together. "Stay here," she murmurs, and Anna tugs her closer for another kiss.

But then they're apart, and Anna's nodding. Elsa turns around and begins walking towards Ekud. His hands are white, iced over and dangerous, and he points towards the tunnel that leads to the Heart.

"Get it for me," he demands, "or I'll kill the child."

Elsa doesn't bother responding. She doesn't stop walking, but she looks at Mÿr. "Are you hurt?" she asks, and Mÿr gives a slight shake of the head. It appeases Elsa, and she looks straight in Ekud's eyes.

"I do this," she says, "and you let Mÿr go." He gives an impatient sort of nod, and gestures to the tunnel. Before turning fully around he looks at the three people still standing to the side, his eyes and gestures speaking louder than any words.

 _Don't follow, or the child will die._

Elsa shoots them an encouraging smile, but her eyes betray her fear. There is a lump in Anna's throat as she watches Elsa leave. The darkness of the entrance swallows her, and all Anna can hear is the blood pumping through her ears.

Ekud turns from them, facing the door, and Anna realises that Elsa's not going to come back. She's going to die to protect Mÿr.

It's the cold dread filling Anna's heart that lets her move, springing forward and calling Mÿr's name. She hears Kristoff and Tiril, behind her, and Elsa reappears, screaming her name. Ekud whips around, hand glowing bright as Mÿr strikes him in the stomach. The child uses the chance, as he's doubled over in pain, to run towards Anna.

Elsa cries out her name again, just as Ekud throws his hand forward and a spear of ice bursts from his fingers.

Anna reaches for Mÿr, tugs her down and out of the path of the ice just as she feels her own insides being ripped apart. She lets out a choked cry, and as she falls to the ground she sees Ekud, staring at her.

And then, she doesn't see much of anything at all.

* * *

Elsa sees it as though it happens in slow-motion. Stupid, _stupid_ girl.

The High Queen isn't thinking when she reacts. Her heart feels like it has imploded, sending shrapnel through the rest of her body as she clenches her hand. She's too slow as pillars splinter through his wrists, holding him aloft, spread-eagle and unable to fight back. He screams out in pain, but she's already moving past him. His cries make no difference at all to her as she rushes to Anna's side.

She's already surrounded; Kristoff, Tiril, and Mÿr are next to her over her, but they move out of the way for Elsa. Her legs can't hold her up, and she collapses onto the ground beside Anna.

It's bad. Elsa's voice catches in her throat, and she lets out a choked cry as she forces her eyes to look anywhere but the injury. Her hands brush at Anna's fringe so she can look her in the eyes instead.

"Anna..." she whispers. "Anna, look at me." She turns away for a second, eyes flashing between Kristoff and Tiril. "Get Pabbie!" she cries.

She doesn't wait to see if they're following her orders before turning back to Anna. "Hold on, Anna. It'll be okay."

Anna's trying to smile, but the shudders that run through her and the water in her eyes prevents it from doing anything but prompt tears to fill Elsa's eyes. "Ow- ouch," she says, biting back a groan that could only be pain. Her eyes squeeze shut, and there's a strange choking noise from her throat for a second. When she opens her eyes again, she seems to look past Elsa for a moment before her eyes focus.

"You stupid girl," Elsa says, eyes still very determinedly not looking at the mess of Anna's stomach – or what remains of it. Anna lets out a noise that sounds almost like a laugh but for the gurgle in her throat. She coughs, blood running from the corner of her mouth.

"I won- won't bother n-next time," she rasps, coughing again. Elsa squeezes her eyes shut, water leaking from beneath the lids as she nods.

"You better not," she responds. "Bed rest for a week."

Anna smiles at that, and it gives Elsa the strength to respond with one of her own. One hand is cupping Anna's cheek, thumb wiping away blood and tears, while the other is in Anna's hand. She can feel the strength lessening, and responds only by grasping it tighter.

"T-too bad y-your spell was one... one use only," she tries, and Elsa has to bite her lips to suppress a sob. She nods instead, and the corners of Anna's mouth quirks. "Might... might be a b-bit longer than a week..." she says, and Elsa swallows thickly. Anna's not really crying anymore. The blood running from her mouth slows, and she takes another shuddering breath.

Elsa shakes her head. "Two weeks," she says softly. "And that's all. I need you, Anna."

The hand that isn't being held reaches up for Elsa's cheek, but misses. Elsa grabs it and presses it against her skin.

"I l-love you," Anna whispers, and Elsa shakes her head violently.

"Tell me when you're better," she says before releasing a broken sob. "Don't- don't leave me, Anna."

Anna 's eyes are so horribly glazed, but she still manages a smile. Her thumb moves against Elsa's cheek, pressing against the Mark there.

"N-not leaving," she says. "You'll- you'll be okay..." Elsa shakes her head but Anna keeps talking. "I'll... s-say hello for you... tell Aerya all- all about you."

She gives one more smile, and then the hand in Elsa's falls limp, and one last vapour of breath rises from her lips.

The silence is deafening for but a brief moment. And then Elsa's shaking her head and sobbing, and no one can say anything because they can feel her grief. It's in the snow the falls around her, close but never touching her or Anna. It's in the cries that fill the air and rip it apart around them.

"Anna..." she whispers. She leans forward, and Anna's lips are so horribly limp in hers. Her forehead rests on Anna's, even as her own tears run across her skin.

And then she feels a gentle hand on her shoulder, and looks up to see Tiril gazing at her. "Elsa..." she offers, and all Elsa can do is shake her head. Her eyes fall on Ekud, still struggling and crying, and she gently extricates herself from beneath Anna.

The ice holding Ekud up melts away, and he falls gracelessly to the floor. Even uninjured, he would not have stood a chance.

"You!" Elsa bellows. He struggles to get away from her, unadulterated fear in his eyes, as tangible as the hate and grief that plays in hers.

"I didn't mean- it was an accident!" he cries out. He doesn't say another word – doesn't get the chance – because Elsa's fist is suddenly in his face. She pulls him to his feet again and delivers another blow, but this time he's able to stay on his feet and scramble away.

Elsa doesn't care for the crowd that's come to see what's happening. She doesn't care for the voices of Kristoff and Tiril, begging her to stop. There's only one voice she wants to hear, and she's never going to get that chance again.

Tears burn at her eyes as she continues to rain down on Ekud. Her magic itches at her fingers, but that would be too kind. She needs to feel him hurt.

"You killed her!" she roars, fists finding their mark each time. He doesn't say another word, can't say another word between her blows and the blood. "You killed her..."

The words are a mantra she screams over and over again, with each strike of her fist until Ekud's face is a mess of black, blue, and red.

And then Elsa slumps, bloodied hands falling limply into her lap as her shoulders shake. She feels Tiril's hand on her arm; the priestess crouches down next to her, ignoring the whimpering of the other elf as she picks up Elsa's hands and begins wiping them down. Kristoff is standing back a ways, just watching the scene.

With Elsa sufficiently distracted, he moves over to Ekud and hoists him up.

"You're no longer welcome here," he says, and all Ekud can do is whimper.

 _It doesn't matter if it was an accident_ , Elsa's able to think numbly. _None of it matters anymore_.

She looks towards Anna with wet eyes, and her heart stops.

Anna's gone.

* * *

"Find them!"

Tiril's voice carries clear through the crowd – far larger than Elsa had first thought it would be – but there's little she can do but sit there, numb. Mÿr's vanished too, but even that thought barely registers because _Anna's gone_. She sees Kristoff push Ekud, taking him away, and Tiril talking with the crowd, but the noises have faded to nothing. She's aware only of her own heart, beating pathetically in her chest, until a small hand reaches out and lands on her knee.

She just looks at it for a few moments, unable to bring herself to move further and look at the body it's attached to.

Falo, when she realises it's him, wastes little time throwing his arms around her. Elsa isn't sure who's doing the comforting until he begins to speak.

"Everyone's okay, Elsa," he offers quietly. "Everything's going to be okay..."

She shakes her head, but he frowns. "Anna's with Mÿr," he starts slowly, "and soon she'll be with you." His wide eyes never leave Elsa's, and though it takes a few moments, something finally clicks.

"You.. you know where Mÿr is, Falo?" she asks slowly. He cocks his head in confusion, and nods.

"You don't?"

Elsa shakes her head, and Falo stands up. He tugs on her hand, and when Elsa follows him to her feet, she realises how empty the area is. "Wha- where did everyone go?" she asks. Falo smiles, and points at the entrance to the Heart of the City.

"Everyone's in there," he says, "They're helping Mÿr."

Elsa's heart rises to her throat, and she doesn't know why. Holding Falo's hand, she lets him lead her into the dark tunnel, not having any idea what she'd find at the end of it.

* * *

It's a bizarre parody of the celebration – and it's amazing to think it's only been a day since they were all here.

All together.

The elves are all standing around the little hill. Elsa can't see what's happening, and Falo has slowed right down, holding Elsa back. She can see her people moving, taking turns to approach the hill, and she knows – she _knows_ – that Mÿr is up there.

And that means that Anna is up there, too.

Swallowing, Elsa begins to make her way forward. The crowd parts for her, eyes averted, and it's only when she pushes through that she can see what's happening.

Anna is lying in the centre of the small knoll, Mÿr sitting next to her head. Elsa pauses, watching as Mÿr uses a small hand to brush gently at Anna's face. Tiril is sitting at Anna's crown, eyes seeking out different people to come up and approach.

They do, kneeling once and murmuring something under their breath as they kiss Anna on the forehead. It's a strange ritual that Elsa's never seen, never expected to have conducted towards a _human_. It brings renewed tears to her eyes as she observes her people – _her people_ – giving Anna the same deference they'd give one of their own.

Watching them treat Anna, the little human girl, with such reverence, is outstanding.

Mÿr and Tiril both look at her at the same time. There's something in their eyes that Elsa can't understand, and she finds herself drawn forward.

In an act that could most definitely be sacrilege, Tiril has wrapped Anna in her own gown. The material covers the wound, and with her eyes shut, Anna could just be sleeping.

Elsa's feet move of their own accord. She steps forward, away from the crowd and towards the girl who had so roughly taken over her heart. She collapses at Anna's head, next to Tiril and across from Mÿr, and yet the only person she sees is Anna.

She takes the time to just look, committing her to memory. Elsa can imagine her eyes, green like the first thaw of the season. Her hair is as red as it's always been, but now Elsa can _appreciate_ it. It isn't blood-red, but rather, the red of a sunset over their forest. It stands in stark contrast to the green beneath her, and with a hand so hesitant, it's almost a surprise it makes it to its destination, Elsa reaches out and brushes Anna's cheek.

"...Kiss her..."

Mÿr's voice is low and soft, and Elsa's hand jerks back at the sound. Her eyes move from Anna to Mÿr and back again, before they land and stop on the soft Marks that decorate Anna's skin. None of this should have happened, she thinks. If she ever bonded again, it was to be with one of her own people.

But the heart wants what it wants. There's movement behind her as each and every elf sinks to their knees, prostrate and praying. It gives Elsa the courage to cup Anna's cheek and lean forward.

"I'm sorry, Anna," she whispers, closing her eyes. Their foreheads touching, she feels the tears leaking from behind the lids, landing on Anna's cheek. Fighting the urge to start crying, she instead sniffles, and repeats her words.

"I'm so, so sorry, Anna. I... I wish things had been different."

A shuddering breath, before murmuring, "I love you..."

And then she presses their lips together for the last time.

When she pulls up, she can feel the eyes of her whole city on her. Her breath comes in ragged gasps as her vision fades, once more obstructed by the tears in her eyes. She's torn between staying by Anna's side, and running away.

It isn't a hard decision to make, to stand up and move away, and to turn her back on Anna. She's always been far too good at running.

She hasn't made it to the crowd, though, when she hears her name. For a single, shattering second, her heart stops, and it takes two more to find the courage to turn around because it's far too early to be hearing things.

Only she didn't, because Anna's on her knees, facing Elsa, lip quivering and looking as though she's about to burst into tears at any moment.

"...Anna...?"

The cheer that goes through the crowd is enough to shake the very roots of the mountain. The Hearts shimmer above, their own version of applause, and still, Elsa doesn't move.

It's Anna that takes the first step. Tiril helps her to her feet as Elsa gapes, and though Mÿr holds her hand, after the third step, it's unnecessary. The robe slips, enough to show the mess of Anna's dress beneath her, but not on the skin. It's the first place Elsa reaches out to touch.

Instead of the wound – the torn, fragile flesh – there's nothing but smooth skin. It's quite possibly the best thing Elsa's ever felt, and it's becoming difficult to bite back the sobs that threaten to break out.

No one is this lucky. No fairytale endings have ever existed – not for her – because she had never deserved them. And yet here Anna is, living and breathing in front of her.

"H-how? You- you _died_ Anna. I watch- I _watched_ , and-"

"Shh, Elsa, it's okay," comes the gentle reply. The crowd has quietened down, waiting with bated breaths. "And besides," Anna says, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth, "magic is an unpredictable thing..."

Their eyes look up at the same moment, drinking in the sight of a thousand Hearts before looking over the assembled crowd. It was more than enough, and for the first time, Elsa isn't unsure of her – _their_ – future. She gives a silent prayer of thanks, before wrapping Anna in her arms.

She isn't lost. Not anymore.

* * *

It doesn't take long for everyone to leave. They have to share the news of that afternoon to those who hadn't been there, and have to gossip with those who had. Before long, Elsa and Anna are left alone, curled together in the grass.

"What will happen to Ekud? You aren't going to execute him, are you?" Anna asks softly. Elsa's caught between frowning at the question, or smiling at the woman next to her. Even after dying, Anna still worries for the fate of the one who killed her.

Elsa shakes her head. "No. He will be stripped of his powers and cast out, as will anyone who conspired with him. He has no place with us anymore."

Anna nods, satisfied, and leans against Elsa. She giggles, low and soft, when Elsa's hand runs over her stomach once again, as though ensuring that everything is as it should be.

They could waste time and wonder; waste time and ask _how_ , but neither are inclined. Anna knows better than to question the will of God, lest the blessing be taken away. Elsa doesn't care how or why. All she cares about is the woman in her arms.

Ducking her head, she presses her lips against Anna's. It's been so long since her heart had been this light, or her soul had been at such peace. It's been so long since she'd tasted another person, or had even wanted to try.

Without noticing how, they find themselves lying against the soft grass, Elsa hovering over Anna. Their lips never part. The kiss is languorous, slow. Elsa's hand slides along Anna's side before it pauses at her hips and rubs circles against the soft skin.

They only break apart when it becomes too intense. When they can't seem to catch their breaths, even though it's not from lack of air.

"Anna?" Elsa murmurs. Anna's green eyes are wide, so wide. Elsa could get lost in them forever. _Wants_ to get lost in them forever.

And then Anna closes them and closes the _millimetres_ of distance between them, and she whispers into Elsa's lips, " _make me yours_."

And suddenly it's all too much.

They kiss, and then kiss again. Each gentle touch prompts a fiercer one, to be met with a shiver and a gasp. Anna slips her arms from the robe around her, and uses the new freedom to press ever-closer to Elsa.

The elf's name is a mantra that plays over and over as Elsa attacks her with her hands and lips.

" _I need you_ ," she murmurs, hand resting against Anna's cheek. Anna swallows thickly, throat bobbing, and she smiles when she catches Elsa following the movement.

"I want you to need me," she says, "Because I need your touch. I need to show you I'm real, Elsa. I'm real and I'm really here, and I'm _never_ going to leave you again."

Elsa gives her own smile, but it's small and wry. "Don't make promises you can't keep, elskede."

At that, Anna frowns. "Pardon?"

Elsa gives an embarrassed smile and looks away. She doesn't answer, and Anna thinks she already knows the answer.

So she asks Elsa to say it again, and again, and again, until the words are seared into her mind and to her soul.

Until the word is echoing around the cavern, a song harmonised by their whimpers and gasps.

Harmonised by _them_.

* * *

They step from darkness and into the light of the setting sun. The weak orange draws out the colour of Anna's hair, and Elsa can't help but lean over and press her lips against Anna's temple.

She smiles at the gesture, but fails to mask a shiver as the wind picks up. The air has chilled, and Anna's still only wrapped in Tiril's robe.

"Let's go home," Elsa says softly. Anna nods, but doesn't move. Doesn't move her eyes from where they're focussed at the edge of Elsa's forest and beyond.

"Elsa," she says quietly, "Do you think they're okay?"

And Elsa knows who she's talking about, but she doesn't know how to answer. Anna tears her eyes away to look into Elsa's, imploring.

"I don't know," she admits quietly, and the heartbreak that appears on Anna's face is enough to resonate in her own heart. She nuzzles closer, lips pressing against Anna's cheek. "But if not, they will be soon."

She pulls away enough to read Anna's confused expression, slowly morphing as she catches up. "You mean-?"

Elsa nods. "Let's go take back your city."

* * *

 _Author notes: I hope you enjoyed that. Despite the ending, I don't have any plans for a continuation of this. However, it was always going to end this way. Additionally, I have thought of the logistics of how the spells worked, even if they're not explicit in the fic._

 _The words Elsa recites at the beginning are Old Norse, as best as I could research, for the following saying:_

 _"As she stands on this sacred site, she is protected by the crown and by the Queen. Anna of Arendelle, you are given the blessing of the elves."_

 _Thank you for reading xx_


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